The hajj cannot be returned to the size it was before COVID-19.

I have never been on the pilgrimage to Mecca that all Muslims who can do must do at least once in their lives, but growing up I learned the rituals that one day I hoped to make the journey. At a young age, we practice. The Islamic school I attended created a mock Kaaba, the black cube in the center of the Grand Mosque, in our gym. Students dressed in white ihram, the custom, matching the simple clothes that pilgrims wear, and studied the special prayers that we all hoped would one day be repeated around reality. I didn’t doubt for a minute that I would eventually be able to do it.

This year, due to the coronavirus pandemic, the Saudi Arabian government has limited hajj, which begins this week, to approximately 1,000 residents of the kingdom, far from the more than millions who generally attend from around the world. The decision was received with regret worldwide. Many hopeful pilgrims have saved for years to book their trips months or even years in advance, and could never have predicted that a pandemic would have prevented them from going. While this is a disappointment to Muslims everywhere, it is worth bearing in mind that only in recent years has hajj been accessible to many. The expectation that every Muslim can and should make the journey I grew up with is a new development in the Muslim world, and it comes at a great cost.

Before the arrival of motor vehicles and commercial airline travel, pilgrims traveled by boat, on foot, or by camel. If they were not killed by disease or bandits, they would have the opportunity to complete one of the mandatory pillars of their faith. And then they would have to survive the trip home. In some cases, the journey would take years. Then in late 19^th century, the steamship revolutionized intercontinental travel, and the number of pilgrims soared. Between 1868 and 1892, the numbers more than doubled. Once airlines began offering routes to Saudi Arabia in 1937, the numbers skyrocketed again. In 1941, only about 24,000 pilgrims did. By 2012, it was over 3 million. My parents left at 50 years old from the United States, a trip that might not have been possible before the planes.

But while technology has allowed millions more the opportunity to follow in the footsteps of the Prophet Muhammad and complete one of the central rites of their faith, the modern accessibility of hajj comes at a price.

“This is something that infectious disease experts talk about almost every year,” says Zahra Jamal, associate director of the Boniuk Institute for Religious Tolerance at Rice University. She says that while the decision to severely limit hajj this year because of concerns related to COVID-19 is the right one, raising millions makes the spread of the disease a major concern even in years without a pandemic: “Basically, you are the body body, right? And not everyone has a great immune system for exposure, for example, to malaria. “

The hajj has been reduced and, in some cases, completely canceled, in the past, Jamal says. Black plague, drought, famine, cholera, MERS, and Ebola have prompted hajj officials to intervene. But she says there has not been such a major disruption in modern times. “Because there has been no pandemic in the world for over a hundred years, none of us have a human memory, so this is scaring people,” she said. “With all the life changes that come with it, there is something really special and important here that needs to change now, too.”

I am one of those Muslims who was surprised. I’ve never seen Mecca emptied before. I didn’t even realize that the tile of the Great Mosque was white, because it was full of people in every photo I had seen.

Illness is not the only concern. A site whose first foundations date back to the 7th century is simply not equipped for modern crowds. In 1990, 1,426 pilgrims were trampled to death in a stampede. * Just five years ago, another 2,236 were trampled in a narrow tunnel. To further limit the number of pilgrims it would not be unheard of. Officials have already put in place various restrictions on who can enter the holy city during the Hajj period. A specific pilgrimage visa is required, and each country is assigned a limited amount per year. Some are already putting pressure on officials to make their application processes more transparent, since in some cases it may take up to 10 years for the hajj visa to be approved.

Hajj is big business for Saudi Arabia, generating around $ 12 billion a year and providing an incentive to just get bigger. Hajj officials continue to work on the Grand Mosque, adding more hotel rooms and expanding tunnels to accommodate more people, but in some cases, the renovations come at the expense of important historical sites that have been preserved for generations. The home of Mohammed’s first wife, Khadijah, was recently replaced by a block of 1,400 public toilets. It is not unreasonable for hajj providers to want to accommodate pilgrims, but as a Muslim who has already left, I wonder what will be left of the holiest site in Islam for me to see when I try to make the journey. If the numbers continue to rise as the global Muslim population increases, will you ever be safe from disease or uncontrollable crowds?

The coronavirus closures have been an opportunity for people and institutions around the world to reflect on their priorities. Now would be a good time for Hajj officials to do the same.

Jamal and I discussed the spiritual importance of hajj for Muslims. “For people who are actually going to do Hajj this year, they may not feel like they have done proper Hajj because of all the new security restrictions,” he said. For example, instead of helping the Zamzam water well, which Muslims believe miraculously emerged to quench the thirst for Abraham’s wife and son when they were stranded in the desert, officials will distribute the water in disinfected bottles. Hajj is a manifestation of an internal spiritual journey. And that journey is about community transformation, going through all the different rituals. It’s really about destroying the ego, forgetting the self and remembering God, and then sharing that generosity with the rest of creation, “he said,” if you can’t physically go to Hajj because the numbers have been limited after the pandemic, for example , it’s okay because God is merciful. “

The Saudi royal family has saved lives by limiting entry to the domestic faithful only this year. If they had resisted science and allowed millions to gather very close together and then return to their home countries, it would have been a global disaster. This raises the question of whether they should save more lives by limiting capacity in normal years. It seems entirely reasonable to limit size in the future, showing the same amount of restraint and caution that you have shown this year in the face of a pandemic. I’m not sure what a reasonable annual number of pilgrims would be, but I know that regular overcrowding stampedes show that the current number is too high

I realize that as a Muslim I have not been to Hajj, I am arguing that the journey is less likely to take place in my life. There are about 2 billion Muslims worldwide. Even at current capacity levels, it would take more than 500 years for each Muslim to perform Hajj. So, it is no longer a reasonable expectation that all Muslims have a chance to go. But it will save lives and the historical sites of Mecca.

It is worth accepting the fact that many of us will die before looking at the holy Kaaba in person, and it is probably better if we never see it.