Shaykh Seraj was born in Cape Town on the 12th of November, 1955, in the last days of Rabīʿ al-Awwal of 1375. It is quite fitting that he was born in the month of the Mawlid of the Prophet, may Allah’s blessings be upon him, and that he passed in the month of Dhū al-Qaʿda, one of the blessed four sacred months mentioned in the Qurʾān.
The ʿAllāma, Shaykh Seraj Hassan Hendricks, returned to the mercy of his Lord on the 9th of July, 2020, in Cape Town, after decades of serving the Divine, His religion, and His Prophet. As news of his death spread, tens of thousands were in mourning, in South Africa and internationally. Many endeavoured to reach his funeral prayer the following day at the mosque that his grandfather, the great Shaykh Muhammad Salih Hendricks, built in Cape Town, in the shadow of Table Mountain, a hundred years ago. Azzawia would have seen Muslims and non-Muslims alike, who would have known him as a father, a friend, a scholar, a teacher, a poet, and a shaykh of taṣawwuf. As for myself, he was all these things to me.
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It was only a few days after ʿĪd al-Fiṭr when Shaykh Seraj came into hospital in the blessed month of Shawwāl, the month of great blessing. And then his trial began, almost immediately. Easily, so very easily — he went from home, walking easily into hospital, engaging in remembrance of God, as was witnessed by someone who was with him. And then almost immediately, he was rushed into the ICU. And there he stayed, until his last.
It is not easy surviving in the ICU for five weeks. It is quite rare that even happens. But he did, and one has to wonder why. The thing about trials and tribulations is that we have three scenarios for what they mean. The first is that the trial is a punishment, and the sign of that is constant complaint. The Shaykh was never like that. The second is that the trial is a source of expiation of sin. And the third is that the trial is a source of spiritual rising.
God knows best. But perhaps indeed — what seems abundantly clear to me — is that in the early part of his time in the ICU, our shaykh was going through that phase of purification. And then the rest of it, day after day, was something very different.
Our friend Shafiq Morton narrated to us a story a few weeks before the Shaykh’s passing. He was told by someone who sometimes gets a sense of what is happening beyond the realm that we can see. That person got the very clear sense that Shaykh Seraj was not alone at all. That there were angelic presences around him — and that he was being well, and truly, taken care of.
The Prophet, may blessings and peace be upon him, said that those who die from the plague are martyrs. Scholars today use that narration, and others, to make the argument that those who pass away as our Shaykh Seraj did are liable for the rank of shahīd in the hereafter. And Allah knows best — but that is how He, Glorious is He, chose to have Shaykh Seraj return to Him.
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Thousands of miles away, I walked into my own study that morning, and it was dark — for the first time in months, it was dark. I quietly whispered to myself: “Ah, so today is going to be the day.” My wife told Shaykh Seraj’s children that day: we could feel that the air and wind themselves were saddened — it was hot, and there was not a breeze in sight; even at midday, the sky was greyish, almost wailing. About the same time in Cape Town, the clouds gathered up in a massive way, and suddenly they emptied out a torrential downpour of rain.
“Say: ‘Praise be to God. He will show you His Signs and you will recognize them. Your Lord is not heedless of anything you do.'” (Qurʾān, 27:93)
Shaykh Seraj’s widow, the inestimable Aunty Rhoda Hendricks, later told me that on the morning of his passing, his son-in-law noticed that the two big trees outside his property were different. When he looked again, they had small birds on almost every branch — perching all over the trees. The birds were chirping, but in such a way that it sounded like hundreds were singing. They stayed as such for about three days, the traditional duration of mourning, and then, just as innocuously as they had come, they departed.
Shaykh Seraj went peacefully, and without pain.
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The day after his passing, Shaykh Seraj’s son, Rashid Seraj Hendricks, led the funeral prayer over his father, just as he fulfilled the duty of preparing him for burial, and then placing him in the ground — there, beside his grandfather, where Shaykh Muhammad Salih was laid to rest following his request not to build a monument over his grave. His simple burial ground remains as such today, surrounded by his family. Worldwide, ṣalāt al-ghāʾib was made for him.
From around the world, people expressed their condolences. Shaykh Muhammad al-Jilani of the Gambia. Shaykh Afeefuddin al-Jailani of Iraq. Dr Umar Faruq Abd-Allah of the United States. Shaykh Faraz Rabbani of Canada. Dr Mona Hassan of Duke University. Shaykh Abdal Hakim Murad of the United Kingdom. Scores of officials in and out of South Africa, Muslim and non-Muslim alike. What stirs the heart is that, as one of them mentioned, it is striking to see how all of them corroborated each other on a single theme: the impeccability of Shaykh Seraj’s character.
At the first majlis of dhikr following his death, those gathered supplicated for him in the post-dhikr supplication, where his father, his uncles and his grandfather are also mentioned. Shaykh Seraj had taken his rightful place alongside them.
When someone reached out about the community, the response to them was: “They have been well-trained. Shaykh Seraj, and Shaykh Ahmad, and the shaykhs of Azzawia of history, have done a great job. They are strong.” Azzawia continues to stand firm and tall, if tender to the touch after such a monumental event. Its community continues, as ever, to pledge to Shaykh Ahmad Hendricks, as resident shaykh of Azzawia, and to remain loyal to the traditions, teachings, imams and scholars of Azzawia.
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A little while after his passing, one of his relatives declared: “I’m very heartbroken — but his time was there, no matter what.” She reminded me of the ḥadīth qudsī that the Shādhulī master, Ibn ʿAjība, mentioned in Baḥr al-Madīd: “I am with those whose hearts are munkasira (broken) for My sake.” Surely, did we love Shaykh Seraj for the sake of God.
We end with the duʿāʾ that Shaykh Seraj made in the prayer hall of Azzawia, praying that his supplication is answered and multiplied many times over, for our benefit in this world and the next:
We ask Allāh taʿālā through His Grace and through His Mercy, inshāʾ Allāh taʿālā, to make us of those who are people of ʿadāla, of justice, to each and everyone, without any consideration of race, of creed, of colour, of nationality, of tribe, of any other artificial construct and barrier, and further ask Allāh taʿālā to infuse us with the spirit of iḥsān. That is the only way, I believe, for a true, and vital resurrection of this umma that is facing so many problems throughout the world. But it is the way of ʿadāla, it is the way of iḥsān, it is the way of knowledge, it is the way of tawḥīd, because Islam is a civilisation of oneness, with all its respect for the beauty and diversity of this amazing tapestry of art that Allāh taʿālā has created for us.
The Shaykh, al-ʿAllāma, al-murabbī, Seraj Hassan Hendricks, pointed not to himself, but to Allāh, following the example of His Holy Prophet. He oriented himself to that which lives, and never dies — and so must all of us.
May God bless the people of Azzawia; the community of Cape Town; the umma everywhere; and humanity at large with the knowledge the shaykh taught. May He be well and truly pleased with His servant, our teacher and shaykh, Shaykh Seraj Hassan Hendricks.
Blessings and salutations be upon our liege-lord, Muhammad, and praise be to Allāh, Lord of the Worlds.
