Anniversary of the Al-Aqsa Arson and the Role of Muslim Scholars Today

As the 57th anniversary of the arson attack on Al-Aqsa Mosque is marked, it does not merely recall a bygone incident, but rather evokes an early chapter in the ongoing targeting of the holy site and its identity. On the morning of August 21, 1969—nearly two years into the occupation of East Jerusalem—Australian national Denis Michael Rohan entered the compound, headed toward the southern prayer hall (al-Musalla al-Qibli), and set fire to the historic pulpit (minbar) of Saladin. The flames quickly tore through vast sections of the mosque, destroying the iconic pulpit and causing severe damage to the ceilings, walls, ornamentation, and the prayer niche (mihrab). The blaze came dangerously close to engulfing the dome, stopped only by the desperate efforts of Jerusalemites who rushed to extinguish it.

The pulpit (minbar) of Saladin was far more than an ancient relic; it stood as a testament to the legacy of liberation. Commissioned years prior to the conquest of Jerusalem by Nur al-Din Zengi specifically for Al-Aqsa, it was later installed inside the mosque by Saladin following the city’s liberation in 1187 CE (583 AH). When the blaze consumed it in 1969, the irony was devastating: the very symbol that bridged the strategic vision of liberation with its actual realization was reduced to ashes.

The perpetrator was arrested shortly after the attack and confessed to the crime. However, his trial concluded with him being declared mentally unfit, leading to his eventual deportation from occupied Palestine. The arson sent shockwaves across the Muslim world, igniting widespread protests and political outcry, and serving as a key catalyst for convening the first Islamic Summit in Rabat in September 1969.

A Fire Not Yet Extinguished

Fifty-seven years later, the pressing question is no longer who set fire to Al-Aqsa back then, but rather: has that fire truly been put out?

While the flames that consumed the woodwork were extinguished, the battle over the mosque’s identity and status remains ablaze. Indeed, the current reality poses a far greater threat than an overt fire. Today, the holy site faces systematic efforts to alter its historical and legal status quo—normalizing daily incursions and religious rituals, restricting Muslim worshippers, undermining the Islamic Waqf authorities, and gradually turning the exception into a habit, the habit into a reality, and that reality into an asserted right.

For this reason, the anniversary of the blaze must not be reduced to mere mourning over a 1969 crime. Al-Aqsa demands far less commemoration and far more comprehension of how this fire has mutated. Yesterday’s blaze was physical, consuming timber and stone; today’s fire targets meaning, identity, collective memory, and sovereignty. The gravest danger is that sheer normalization might numb public consciousness—until incursions become ordinary routine, violations turn into passing headlines, and erasing the site's identity becomes an open, debatable question.

Al-Aqsa: A Sacred Trust upon the Muslim Ummah

First and foremost, scholars must recognize that the bond between Al-Aqsa and the Muslim Ummah was neither fabricated by politics nor forged by modern conflict. Rather, it is an enduring covenant sealed by the Quran, as God Almighty states: (Glory to Him who made His servant travel by night from the sacred place of worship to the furthest place of worship, whose surroundings We have blessed) (Al-Isra:1)

It is divine revelation itself that linked the Sacred Mosque to the Furthest Mosque; thus, no political borders can sever what the Quran has united.

The prophetic tradition firmly reinforced this sacred status. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) declared: “Do not set out on a journey except for three Mosques i.e. Al-Masjid-AI-Haram, the Mosque of Allah's Messenger (peace be upon him) , and the Mosque of Al-Aqsa, (Mosque of Jerusalem)..¹

Hence, the Al-Aqsa Mosque belongs to no single generation, no single Muslim people, and no individual Muslim state; it remains the collective trust of the entire Ummah, passed down through generations. While the people of Palestine and the residents of Jerusalem stand on the front lines of its defense, their presence does not reduce a universal Islamic mandate to an exclusively Palestinian affair. As the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said: “The believers in their mutual kindness, compassion and sympathy are just like one body. When one of the limbs suffers, the whole body responds to it with wakefulness and fever.” ²

The Responsibilities of Muslim Scholars Today

At the forefront of those entrusted with this mandate are Muslim scholars. In times of crisis, a scholar’s role is not confined to issuing reactionary rulings in the aftermath of an event; rather, it begins with cultivating the very consciousness through which the Ummah perceives and understands the reality of what has transpired. As God Almighty states: (God took a pledge from those who were given the Scripture—‘Make it known to people; do not conceal it)( Ali 'Imran:187)

The foremost duty of scholars today is to decolonize the collective consciousness regarding Al-Aqsa and reaffirm its centrality within the conscience of the Ummah. It must not be reduced from an overarching Islamic cause into a distant political file, nor from a sacred religious trust into a localized dispute. A scholar guards the spiritual meaning before the physical structure, affirming to future generations that a prolonged occupation creates no legitimacy, and that the passage of time can never transform falsehood into truth.

The second duty is to call things by their true names, for pivotal battles are won or lost in the arena of language long before they are decided on the ground. Military occupation must never be rebranded as mere 'reality,' incursions must not be diluted into 'visits,' the forceful imposition of rituals cannot be framed as 'freedom of worship,' nor should Judaization be trivialized as a mere 'administrative dispute.' Altering terminology is the gateway to shifting judgments, and shifting judgments paves the way for compromising fundamental stances.

The third duty is formulating an active jurisprudence for Al-Aqsa—one that moves beyond reciting its virtues to delineating the Ummah’s tangible obligations toward it. We must transition from the 'virtues of Al-Aqsa' to the 'jurisprudence of Al-Aqsa': a legal framework governing the protection of sacred sites, sustained support, and resisting Judaization, alongside defining the responsibilities of governments, institutions, and individuals. This includes the jurisprudence of education, media advocacy, financial backing, strategic priorities, and anticipated outcomes. Unless emotional attachment is translated into a binding duty, and revered virtue into actionable responsibility, public sentiment will remain purely seasonal.

Here, the higher objectives of Islamic law clearly manifest: preserving Al-Aqsa is not merely the safeguarding of stone, but the protection of faith, identity, collective memory, the dignity of the Ummah, and its civilizational resolve. A purpose-driven jurist does not wait for a fait accompli before issuing a ruling; rather, they read early indicators and warn against impending consequences before they become irreversible.

The fourth duty is confronting both psychological and cognitive normalization with the continuous assaults on Al-Aqsa. Nothing is more perilous than for daily reports of incursions to pass by without stirring a single conscience. Therefore, scholars must integrate the cause of Al-Aqsa into curricula, Friday sermons, academic research, and media discourse—ensuring that desensitization and routine do not erode the Ummah’s vigilance over its sacred sites.

The fifth duty is for scholars to transition from seasonal reactivity to sustained institutional action. It is no longer sufficient to issue a statement during a major incursion or organize a seminar on the anniversary of the 1969 arson, only for the cause to be shelved once again. What is urgently needed is an organized scholarly apparatus that monitors ongoing developments, provides rigorous theological and political analysis, delivers timely stances, produces scholarly curricula and sermons, and nurtures a generation grounded in the jurisprudence of Jerusalem, rather than mere transient sentiment.

Ultimately, a scholar's duty is not to mourn Al-Aqsa alongside the Ummah, but to channel its sorrow into consciousness, that consciousness into a principled ruling, that ruling into a steadfast stance, and that stance into sustained, enduring action. As the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) declared: Whosoever of you sees an evil, let him change it with his hand; and if he is not able to do so, then [let him change it] with his tongue; and if he is not able to do so, then with his heart — and that is the weakest of faith.”(3³)

Therefore, on this fifty-seventh anniversary of the arson, the question scholars must confront is not merely: 'Where is Saladin?' Rather, the more foundational questions are: Where are the scholars capable of cultivating the intellectual and moral climate in which a Saladin can emerge? Where is the jurisprudence that guides and restrains power? And where is the education that nurtures the generation of liberation?

The very history of Jerusalem offers the definitive answer: liberation was never the solitary act of a single commander. The Battle of Hattin was not born out of a vacuum, nor was the victory at Ain Jalut achieved without rigorous preparation. Behind these historic triumphs stood scholars, jurists, educators, and state administrators who shaped collective consciousness, anchored leadership, held power accountable to divine law, and nurtured generations. In this context, three pivotal historical precedents demand our attention: al-Qadi al-Fadil alongside Saladin, al-Izz ibn Abd al-Salam on the eve of Ain Jalut, and the Jerusalemite Al Qudamah family in their scholarly and liberating mission. We revisit them not merely to recount history, but to confront a vital question: What do these figures say to the scholars of the Ummah today?

Scholars on the Path to Liberation

If the duty of scholars today is to safeguard the consciousness of the Ummah, construct an active jurisprudence for Al-Aqsa, and confront the normalization of its Judaization, the history of Jerusalem offers living precedents proving that liberation was never the fruit of the sword alone. The victory at Hattin did not emerge overnight, nor was the triumph at Ain Jalut an isolated military engagement; both were preceded by decades of scholarly revival, disciplined education, state-building, and the cultivation of collective awareness.

For this reason, the question so frequently echoed in times of crisis—‘Where is Saladin?’—demands a far more foundational inquiry: Where are the scholars who cultivate the very environment in which a Saladin can emerge? Where is the jurisprudence that guides and restrains power, the education that nurtures the generation of liberation, and the unifying discourse that rallies the Ummah around its foremost cause?

God Almighty commands: (You who believe, be God’s helpers)( As-Saff, 14). The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) likewise declared: “A believer to another believer is like a building whose different parts enforce each other.⁴ This was the enduring formula behind the Ummah's greatest historical triumphs: a profound synergy between the scholar and the warrior, the jurist and the commander, the pen and the sword.

Al-Qadi al-Fadil: The Scholarly Mind Behind the Liberation Project

Al-Qadi al-Fadil Abd al-Rahim al-Baysani was among the most prominent statesmen of Saladin’s court. Far from being a mere scribe or epistolary clerk, he served as a strategic counselor, chief administrator, and influential policy architect—one of the foundational minds that built a state capable of confronting the Crusader enterprise.

Though physically absent from the battlefield at Hattin—recovering from illness in Damascus when word of victory arrived—his presence was woven into the very fabric of the campaign that led to it: in governance, high-stakes diplomacy, mass mobilization, anchoring leadership, and aligning political strategy with the overarching goal of liberation.

Herein lies a profound lesson for scholars today: being an architect of liberation does not necessitate standing on the front lines of an army. A scholar may well operate from within a university, a mosque, a think tank, a media organization, or a consultative council. The true measure of their position is defined solely by how effectively they harness their intellect, their pen, and their spheres of influence in service of the Ummah’s vital causes.

Today, Al-Aqsa demands a modern 'Qadi al-Fadil' across every domain: in academia directing rigorous research, in the media shaping public discourse, in religious bodies transforming sympathy into actionable initiatives, and within decision-making circles anchoring raw power to justice and the public interest.

Al-Izz ibn Abd al-Salam: The Scholar’s Conscience Confronting Power

Al-Izz ibn Abd al-Salam presents another defining model amid the existential peril of the Mongol invasion. When Sultan Qutuz required funding to mobilize the army and proposed levying taxes on the populace, al-Izz neither granted the ruling authority a blank check under the pretext of 'necessity,' nor did he obstruct the military defense under the guise of protecting public wealth.

The essence of his stance was clear: confronting the enemy was an absolute obligation, and requisitioning public funds was permissible in times of dire need—but only after the state treasury had been completely exhausted, and after the Sultan and the ruling emirs had surrendered their own personal wealth and luxuries, ensuring that those in power bore their fair share of the burden before the common people.

This was far more than a technical fiscal ruling; it established a foundational principle of distributive justice in sacrifice: the ruling elite cannot demand that the nation pay the price of liberation while hoarding its own wealth and privileges.

In this regard, al-Izz stood as an enduring archetype of the scholar who is neither a subservient instrument of political authority nor an absolute adversary to it; rather, he remained an independent theological conscience. He supported power when it aligned with justice, rectified it when it deviated, and unequivocally rejected the exploitation of sacred causes to justify oppression or force the vulnerable to shoulder the costs of fateful decisions alone. As God Almighty commands: (You who believe, uphold justice and bear witness to God)( An-Nisa:135) For a scholar does not merely guard the legitimacy of the noble end—they rigorously safeguard the moral legitimacy of the means used to achieve it.

The Al Qudamah Family: Scholarship, Moral Cultivation, and Struggle

The third model is the most intimately tied to Palestine: the Jerusalemite Al Qudamah family. Displaced from the village of Jamma'il near Nablus under the weight of Crusader occupation, they settled in Damascus and became instrumental in cultivating the scholarly and intellectual environment of the al-Salihiyya district.

From this lineage emerged towering scholars, notably Muwaffaq al-Din Ibn Qudamah—author of the seminal compendium Al-Mughni—and his brother, Abu Umar Muhammad ibn Ahmad ibn Qudamah. Their forced exile did not devolve into a retreat from the Palestinian cause; rather, it was transformed into a multi-generational project of scholarship, moral cultivation, and institution-building. They established learning centers and circles of knowledge, nurtured generations, and subsequently joined Saladin’s campaigns and the broader endeavor to liberate Jerusalem.

Here lies the most profound takeaway: a family forcibly uprooted from Palestine by an occupying power refused to let displacement write their final chapter. In exile, they built an intellectual powerhouse; that powerhouse produced scholars; and those very scholars returned alongside the liberation campaign.

An occupation may dispossess people of their land, but it can never uproot the land from their consciousness unless it colonizes their minds. Educating generations, safeguarding memory, and forging an intellectual vanguard are not marginal cultural pursuits—they are foundational battlegrounds of liberation itself.

A Strategic Roadmap for Scholars Today

Synthesizing these three historical archetypes yields a definitive roadmap for the scholars of today:

1.     Al-Qadi al-Fadil exemplifies the scholar’s intellect within statecraft: strategizing, administering, mobilizing resources, and articulating a coherent strategic vision.

2.    Al-Izz ibn Abd al-Salam represents the scholar’s moral conscience confronting power: championing justice, restraining oppression, and safeguarding equity in fateful governance decisions.

3.    The Al Qudamah family embodies the institution-building educator: preserving civilizational identity, establishing enduring institutions, nurturing human character, and standing resilient when the hour of confrontation arrives.

These three integrated roles remain precisely what Al-Aqsa demands today: an intellect that strategizes, a conscience that holds power accountable, and an educator who builds. Consequently, before asking 'Where is Saladin?', a far more responsible and foundational question must be posed: Where is Al-Qadi al-Fadil? Where is Al-Izz ibn Abd al-Salam? And where is the house of Al Qudamah?

Saladin was not born out of a vacuum, nor did he liberate Jerusalem alone. Behind him stood decades of cumulative scholarship, moral renewal, civic education, statecraft, and active struggle. Passively awaiting a savior-commander without cultivating the conditions that produce one is not an anticipation of history—it is an abdication of our own responsibility in shaping it.

The Duty of Scholars Does Not End with Liberation

Even so, the responsibility of scholars toward Al-Aqsa Mosque does not cease on the day of its liberation; rather, that very day may mark the dawn of an entirely new phase of duty. Liberation reclaims the land, but sustaining it demands knowledge, justice, robust institutions, and heightened consciousness. Following the demise of the occupation—an event near at hand, by God’s will—scholars will bear the enduring duty of safeguarding Jerusalem’s civilizational identity, restoring what the occupation degraded, codifying the jurisprudence governing its sanctities and diverse inhabitants, guarding justice, and preventing triumph from devolving into new forms of inequity. As God Almighty states: (Those who, when We establish them in the land, keep up the prayer, pay the prescribed alms, command what is right, and forbid what is wrong) (Al-Hajj:22) Thus, in the Quranic worldview, empowerment (Tamkeen) is never the culmination of the journey, but rather the inception of a weightier responsibility. Hence, the mission of scholars unfolds across three vital phases: before liberation, cultivating its prerequisites; during liberation, guiding its moral trajectory; and after liberation, safeguarding its higher objectives and enduring fruits.

Perhaps the most poignant closing reflection is that the historic pulpit of Saladin—destroyed by arson in 1969—was actually commissioned by Nur al-Din Zengi years prior to the liberation of Jerusalem. It was as though he was crafting the very symbol of triumph long before the triumph itself arrived. This is precisely what scholars must do today: construct the 'pulpit of liberation' before liberation comes—in the mind of the child, the conscience of the student, the university curriculum, the Friday sermon, academic research, formal jurisprudence, media discourse, and institutional policy.

If the 1969 arson consumed a pulpit of wood, the duty of scholars today is to prevent a far more devastating fire: the extinguishing of Al-Aqsa’s awareness within the heart of the Ummah. Thus, the scholarly mandate toward Al-Aqsa Mosque begins by guarding its sacred meaning prior to liberation, extends to steering the moral path of its liberation, and endures long after liberation—because Al-Aqsa is not merely land to be reclaimed, but a sacred trust we must remain worthy of bearing.