the zaytuna college ramadan reader
Ramadan: Healing the Heart and Soul
1445 ah/2024 ce c
“And say, O Lord, increase me in knowledge.”
ramadan:
healing the heart and soul
As the sacred month of Ramadan approaches us, we welcome its days of restraint and nights of devotion. Our community longs to return to the Book of Allah in a profound way, seeking guidance and salvation at a time when we increasingly find ourselves as strangers in the world. Though the signs of the impending Hour manifest before us, the anxiety and melancholy in our hearts find repose in the final guidance left to us by our Creator through the perfect example of God’s Last and Most Beloved of Messengers, the Chosen One s. One of the immense secrets of the Qur’an lies in its healing (shifā’), which is both restorative and transformative. Allah tells us that the Book is “a healing for what is in the hearts, and guidance and mercy for the believers” (Qur’an 10:57) indicating a remarkable medicinal effect upon serious readers. The common diagnoses of humanity’s ailments are brought to life through stories of those before us, and their remedies quickly follow along with warnings of what will befall those who fall into the same heedlessness. Our most brilliant scholars wrote tomes of commentary yet could never exhaust the meanings of God’s speech that transcend time and place. The divine words gift us with an eternal wisdom that heals all ailments—whether spiritual, physical, or societal—if only we open ourselves up to receive it and listen with an attentive ear and receptive heart.
In this reader, you will find articles from select Zaytuna faculty that reflect on the six verses of shifā’ in the Qur’an. We pray these reflections will serve as a catalyst for your own spiritual renewal and reconnection with God’s Book in the sacred month. May our hearts remain connected to the divine, and may we adhere to the teachings of our Prophet s, who, as our mother Lady ‘Ā’ishah told us, is the walking Qur’an.
A Healing for Hearts
faraz khan, lecturer
By way of analogy and metaphor, it could be said that Ramadan is a hospital. With its penetrating diagnoses and pristine treatment, the month signifies a “yearly checkup” for believers as they reorient themselves to their Creator and reconnect with His revelation. “The month of Ramadan is that in which the Qur’an was sent down, as a guidance to mankind, clear proofs of guidance, and a criterion” (2:185). To return to the Qur’an is to return both to a diagnostic criterion, by which we measure our actions and intentions, and to the antidote itself, for the Book is, in its own words, a shifā’ or “veritable cure.”
“And We send down the Qur’an as a cure and a mercy for believers, yet it increases wrongdoers only in loss” (17:82). In another verse, the nature of the cure is clarified, for it is “a cure for what is in chests” (10:57), that is, for man’s spiritual heart. Mysteriously, the healing that transpires in the soul is often not a function of the analytical mind, a capacity that normally engages in reasoning and parses philosophical discourse. While scripture does contain arguments, which are part of its “mercy for believers” in offering coherent doctrines free of contradiction, the alchemy of the Qur’an has a deeper resonance in the soul that is related to its tilāwah, a term that denotes the melodious recitation of scripture and whose root indicates the “following” of scripture by human ambition and action. Its celestial sounds ignite something in the heart that eludes analysis, and the believer’s humble effort to emulate its guidance reinforces that spark and deepens its effect. Even the sacred script—“that only the purified can touch” (56:79)—pulls the heart upward and is thus part of this sublime alchemy. To merely gaze upon its pages, with veneration and awe, is to ascend and partake of its medicine.
To return to the Qur’an is to return both to a diagnostic criterion, by which we measure our actions and intentions, and to the antidote itself, for the Book is, in its own words, a shifā’ or “veritable cure.”
Fundamentally, the alchemical change is from vicious hearts of “lead” to virtuous hearts of “gold.” Such transformation is of tremendous import, as our Prophet s taught, “Nothing whatsoever shall weigh more on the scales of Judgment Day than good character” (Abū Dāwūd; al-Tirmidhī). Our healing is thus to traverse the journey from stinginess and greed to generosity, from constant frustration to a default contentment, from envy and pride to penitence, and from entitlement to heartfelt gratitude—“that perchance you shall be grateful” (2:185). According to some scholars, gratitude is the foundational virtue of the faith; religious practice should ideally express one’s thankfulness to God (mighty and majestic). Abū Bakr al-Warrāq said, “Gratitude for a blessing is to behold the divine favor,” and al-Ĥakīm al-Tirmidhī defined it as “the connection of the heart to the Benefactor.” All good, as it were, stems from this seed, for if the essence of gratitude is the heart’s connection to Allah, then even patience during hardship can be understood in that light: bearing difficulty out of one’s connection and submission to Allah, the Lord of all circumstances. And perhaps it is this seed of gratitude that warrants the most attention as we drink the Qur’anic antidote in Ramadan, a month that impels us to see and appreciate what we regularly take for granted. Perhaps the Qur’anic cure for the soul begins with opening its eyes.
The Beautiful Khidmah of the Bees
rabia bajwa, assistant professor
The late Meccan revelations, revealed during a period when the nascent Muslim community faced continued and heightened persecution, comprise many of the most well-known suras of the Qur’an, including Al-Naĥl, or The Bee. The sura, which has been a source of much commentary in traditional scholarship, is named after a tiny insect even though only two of its one hundred twenty-eight verses mention the bee.
As believers, we know that for those who take a moment to ponder them, compelling spiritual lessons underlie the realities of the natural world. What wisdom, then, can we learn from bees? The possible answers are likely endless, but a simple analogous reading may hopefully pique curiosity.
God begins the sura by reminding humanity of the numerous provisions He has created—rain, stars, livestock, fruit and trees, among others—and emphasizes that He created them to benefit mankind. He admonishes disbelief, idolatry, and a lack of gratitude despite obvious signs from the natural world that point to its Creator. God asks man to ponder even further—into the depths of the bellies, or insides, of cattle, grapes, and bees from which yet more provisions emerge. He then speaks of bees and shares with us His divine inspiration (waĥy) to them: “Build yourselves houses in the mountains and trees and in what people construct. Then feed from the flower of any fruit you please and follow the ways your Lord has made easy for you” (16:67). He then says, “from their bellies comes a drink of different colors in which there is healing for people. There truly is a sign in this for those who think” (16:69).
Despite our possession of will, the path to success begins with sincere obedience to God, requiring that we follow His commands, perform our religious obligations, and stay on course while avoiding confusion or distraction.
With these two verses, we enter the world of bees and their sophisticated social structure. God grants them the ability to choose where to build their hives and where to work. Despite this freedom, they also humbly play their assigned role as laboring worker bees in a complex organization. They collaborate for the sole purpose of serving and sustaining their colony within a highly structured egalitarian system God has established for them—the obedient path that He has made easy for them—and they are instructed to “follow the ways made easy for you by your Lord” (faslukī subula rabbiki dhululan). Al-Zamakhsharī (d. 538/1143) explains this as making honey, that is, the path that God has taught them and set out for them.
We can appreciate bees even more today given how much modern science enriches our knowledge of their colonies and behavior. While God gives bees the freedom to take nectar from any flower, bees will search for flowers that produce nectar that is higher in nutrients or at peak production, which it then uses to make honey. After worker bees labor tirelessly and selflessly collecting nectar, they work industriously with their fellow bees to turn that nectar into something better. A single female bee will produce less than one teaspoon of honey throughout the course of her
“While God gives bees the freedom to take nectar from any flower, bees will search for flowers that produce nectar that is higher in nutrients or at peak production, which it then uses to make honey.”
short lifespan of anywhere from forty to fifty days—not necessarily for her own consumption but for the hive in general. The final product is none other than the miraculous substance in which God has placed shifā’, or medicinal healing. All of this demonstrates their remarkable work ethic.
It seems fitting to make an analogy between the bee’s path and that of our own spiritual paths so we can reflect upon the possible lessons these verses are conveying. Despite our possession of will, the path to success begins with sincere obedience to God, requiring that we follow His commands, perform our religious obligations, and stay on course while avoiding confusion or distraction. It asks us to humbly perform our duties, whether we perceive them as significant or insignificant, with honesty and integrity. In addition, working closely together and cooperating with others is indispensable to our journey, as we strive for the greater good of others and of our community.
The bee’s path is ultimately one of a beautiful khidmah, or service. This is the spiritual process through which honey miraculously becomes a healing substance. And through which the fruits of our own labor can become a healing in themselves. The great reward promised for those on such a path—the success of earning God’s pleasure—will, by God’s mercy and permission, bring the true inner healing that humanity seeks, a healing that in turn possesses the power to heal others and becomes a greater healing for our community. As the great Sufi exegete al-Sulamī (d. 412/1021) beautifully wrote:
Similarly, if a believer follows his Lord’s command, preserves the secret and turns toward his Lord [staying on course], that will make his presence, his words, and his companionship healing for creation. Whoever looks at him will have learned a lesson, whoever listens to him will be advised, and whoever sits with him will be happy.
Perhaps this was the wisdom revealed to the early Muslims during that difficult period in Mecca—a wisdom that, when implemented, ultimately led to their healing in Medina.
Prophetic Medicine as the True Cure
zaid shakir, professor emeritus
If one word could capture the sense about the prevailing state of the world, that word would be “sick.” Indeed, a seeming sickness has enveloped the globe. The disease, real or perceived, is reflected in our political, social, economic, cultural, sexual, and environmental ecologies. The ongoing slaughter in Gaza represents merely the tip of a much larger, darker iceberg. Many are left to ask a question that God posits in the Qur’an (75:10): “Where is the escape?”
The immediate context of this question relates to the horrors of doomsday. The fear, confusion, anxiety, and helplessness that inspired it, however, describe the feelings of many in today’s world. They too ask, “Where is the escape?” As is common with the Qur’an, when a question is asked, God provides the answer. “Surely, there is no escape. [Only] to your Lord on that day is there a settled refuge (75:11–12).” This means that without the guidance of God, there can be no escape.
One might ask, “Just how do we turn to God?” As He informs us, there are many paths (29:69). Among the surest of them is seeking the guidance of the Qur’an. Just as the Qur’an describes the malaise afflicting so much of humankind today, it also provides the cure. In a general sense, the entire Qur’an is a cure: reciting it and memorizing it and, most importantly, understanding it. That cure, however, is specifically found in what are referred to as the verses of healing. In one of them God states, “There has come to you counsel from your Lord, a cure for what is in your hearts [of spiritual diseases], guidance, and a mercy for the believers (10:57).” The Qur’an is described by four attributes in this verse: as a counsel from God; a cure for diseases, particularly but not exclusively spiritual diseases; guidance; and mercy.
While Muslims, like others, can oppose the forces of darkness engulfing the world through their physical actions, we have also been uniquely positioned to oppose those forces at a spiritual level. We do that by continuing the tradition of spiritual medicine bequeathed to us by the Qur’an and the sunnah of our Prophet a
The great theologian, Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī (d. 606/1209), emphasizes that the basic sickness of the human originates in a natural but distorted attraction to the physical world. Prophetic teachings, which he considered summarized in the four attributes described in Qur’an 10:57, elevates the human above physicality, therein revealing the essence of the cure. In this context, the Prophet Muhammad a can be likened to a skilled doctor. Initially, he prohibited the patient from consuming inappropriate, harmful things—this is the counsel. Next, he provided medicine to remove the traces of the harmful things that caused the disease, a process represented by spiritual struggle that renders the soul capable of replacing blameworthy traits with praiseworthy ones. Those praiseworthy traits are a light that dispels the darkness of blameworthy character. This is the cure—and as the opening phrase of the verse suggests, the blessing of this cure is available to all of humanity.
Once cleansed and illuminated, the soul is prepared to receive divine guidance, which is conveyed by the gentle breezes of God’s mercy. Finally, after the prophets f, divine mercy finds its highest expression in the righteous believers. The light of that mercy floods beyond the boundaries of the believer’s physical existence and touches those in desperate need of relief from the darkness enveloping their lives.
While Muslims, like others, can oppose the forces of darkness engulfing the world through their physical actions, we have also been uniquely positioned to oppose those forces at a spiritual level. We do that by continuing the tradition of spiritual medicine bequeathed to us by the Qur’an and the sunnah of our Prophet a. Only in that tradition can we find the true cure for the diseases that pollute our political, social, economic, cultural, sexual, and environmental ecologies. May we be blessed to undertake the prophetic task of treating the darkness of that pollution lest the light within us be extinguished by the gloom of our neglect.
An Arabic Qur’an but a Healing for All
abdullah bin hamid ali, associate professor
“As God chose the Messenger to be an Arab and sent him to an Arab nation, the worthiest of languages for His Book to be revealed in was Arabic. For if His Book was not revealed in Arabic, the language of every nation would be deserving of having the Book revealed in it. And that would incite jealousy between them due to their historical clashes which produce indignation and resentfulness. But this is not the case with the Arabs who lived in isolation from the other nations.”
Muhammad al-Ţāhir ibn ‘Āshūr (d. 1393/1973)
Al-Taĥrīr wa al-tanwīr
The Qur’an has many names. It is called Al-Shifā’ (The Healing) and Al-Shāfī (The Healer). Al-Shāfī is also one of the terms that describe the attributes of God. The Qur’an is God’s word and the Prophet Muhammad’s lasting miracle. It was revealed to bring humanity “out of darkness into the light by their Lord’s leave to the path of the One who is All-Mighty, Worthy of praise” (14:1).
The word shafā refers to an edge or border, and, according to al-Rāghib al-Aśfahānī, “healing from illness (al-shifā’ min al-marađ) means to attain the threshold of well-being” (muwāfāt shafā al-salāmah). From what does the Qur’an provide healing, though, if God’s Book does not directly address physical maladies? The answer is clear: the Qur’an offers “healing from what is in hearts (shifā’ li mā fī al-śudūr)” (10:57).
The conquest of Mecca was a material success and the first major Muslim victory in a larger spiritual war. The Prophet s purified the Kaaba of its idols, but purifying hearts from vice represented his greater mission. The Sacred Mosque, like the human body, houses its most precious jewel at its center. And whatever enters its confines eventually finds its way to that center, either to corrupt or connect with it. Consequently, the year following the conquest of Mecca, God ordered the Prophet s to bar idolators from the sacred precinct due to their spiritual corruption (9:28); their presence polluted the expression of monotheistic purity for which the sacred house was
The Meccans, blinded by pride, asked: “Why wasn’t this Qur’an revealed to a man of importance from the two cities?” (43:31), “Why was the Qur’an not revealed to him all at once?” (25:32), “Why weren’t angels sent down to us, or why don’t we see our Lord?” (25:21). Despite their objections, the Qur’an makes clear that, even if God had acceded to their demands, the Meccans opposing the blessed Prophet s would still not believe because their arrogance prevented them from acknowledging the truth before their eyes.
Their conceit did not stop there. They feigned marveling over why Muhammad’s revelation did not come in a language other than Arabic. The Qur’an responds:
Had We made it a Qur’an in a foreign tongue, they would say, “If only its signs were expounded. What! A foreign tongue and an Arab [messenger]?” (41:44).
Their objection was just another ruse to reject the message. Revealed in their mother tongue, the Qur’an granted them easy access to its wisdom; had it been revealed in a foreign language, the Meccans would have surely deemed it unreasonable for Arabic speakers to follow its guidance.
Furthermore, an Arabic Qur’an proved less threatening to non-Arab nations because Arabs were not the object of envy by other nations. This reality, according to Muhammad al-Ţāhir ibn ‘Āshūr, facilitated the Qur’an’s embrace by varied populations as God’s universal message to humanity that declares God-consciousness (taqwā) to be the criteria for determining the superiority of one person over another.
The obstinance of the Meccan idolaters vividly demonstrates that rejection of the truth isn’t a conclusion derived by reasoning with an open and sincere heart. The verse continues:
Say, “It is a guidance and a healing for those who believe, and those who do not believe have a deafness in their ears, and it is a blindness for them. Such are called from a place far off.”
The verse explains that while believers, through the act of belief, open themselves to the guidance and healing the Qur’an provides, idolaters cannot receive such guidance and healing because their disbelief, or refusal to believe, creates within them the inability to hear and see with their hearts what the Qur’an conveys in meaning, as those called from far-off can neither hear those calling them nor be heard by those calling to them.
The Qur’an addresses every spiritual malady with appropriate healing remedies for the soul. But we can only embark on the path of healing after we acknowledge our illness. The most successful treatments occur when practitioners embody the lessons they impart to others and make their patients comfortable enough to embrace their prescriptions. Ibn ‘Āshūr believed that part of the divine wisdom behind God’s final Book being revealed in Arabic may have been to prevent non-Arabs from feeling alienated, which would have been a real possibility had their adversaries been chosen for divine favor. Instead, an Arabic Qur’an served as an inroad into the hearts of non-Arab nations, helping them relax their guard in order to be healed from what was preventing their guidance.
The Weapon of the Believer
ali ataie, dean of undergraduate studies
In a richly inspiring Qur’anic passage, we are told that our Master Abraham e, presumably as a young man, courageously confronted his people about their rampant idolatry. After confessing the utter impotency of their “gods,” the people of Abraham e finally admitted, “We found our forefathers doing the same!” In response, Abraham e delivered a powerful monologue mentioning many of the attributes of Allah, the one true God. Abraham’s condemnation of their idols—“They are all enemies to me except the Lord of the worlds”—implies that his people advanced a type of henotheism; much like the Quraysh, they believed in Allah in some sense as the one true God but would also worship idols as rivals or partners to Allah.
The monologue consists of fifteen verses (26:75–89) that display a beautiful concentric parallelism, or ring composition, with theologically didactic textual frames surrounding the central statement: “O my Lord! Grant me good judgment and bind me with the righteous!” This sublime supplication rests at the heart of the monologue.
In addition to describing Allah as the Creator, Guide, and the One who feeds and gives to drink, Abraham e highlights that his Lord is also the Healer: “And if I am ill, it is He who cures me” (26:80). Compositionally, this statement occurs in the first section of the monologue. Therefore, in contrast with the one who is “ill,” the Qur’an describes the one who brings a “sound” or healthy heart (qalb salīm) to Allah on the Day of Judgment (26:89) in the final section of the monologue. Later in the Qur’an, we read that Abraham e himself possessed such a heart: “And surely among his (Noah’s) party was Abraham, when he brought unto his Lord a sound heart” (37:84–85).
The lessons we take from the example of Abraham e are many; not least among them is that, ultimately, God the Exalted is the only one who can heal our illnesses. According to Qur’anic exegetes, human beings are prone to two types of illnesses, physical and spiritual. The various treatments for both types are prescribed by physicians and metaphysicians, respectively. In another verse, Abraham e proclaims: “Truly I am ill” (37:89). Here, however, exegetes proceeded with caution due to his status as an infallible prophet. Both Ibn al-Jawzī (d. 527/1201) and Ibn Kathīr (d. 774/1373) mention that what is meant in this verse is that Abraham e experienced a sickening feeling in his heart because his people, whom he deeply wished to be guided, were assiduously devoted to the worship of false deities. This is a testament to Abraham’s noble disposition; he had a deep concern for the state of his people in both worlds. “Indeed, Abraham was tender-hearted, forbearing” (9:114).
Even as we condemn such atrocities, it is our duty to pray not only for the guidance of those who oppress others as well as themselves—for their healing. This is difficult, but it is the way of Abraham e
But what does this story mean for us today? As Muslims under the banner of the Prophet Muhammad s and
followers of the “religion of our patriarch Abraham” (millat abīkum Ibrāhīm), we must always strive to adhere to Abraham’s example. Currently, Muslims from different parts of the world, especially in Palestine, are suffering in ways that most of us cannot even imagine. The images that we see from places like Gaza, for instance, make us sick to our stomachs. We know, however, that it is Allah the Exalted that is the “Turner of the Hearts” (Muqallib al-qulūb). While we vehemently condemn, with academic rigor and objectivity, certain Jewish elements who place Zionist principles and their proponents above traditional teachings and teachers of Judaism and have effectively constructed a pantheon of false deities as rivals to the one true God, we also know that supplication is the weapon of the believer. Even as we condemn such atrocities, it is our duty to pray not only for the guidance of those who oppress others as well as themselves, but also for their healing. This is difficult, but it is the way of Abraham e.
May Allah turn the oppressors away from their oppression and heal their hearts. May they see the utter impotency of their false gods and turn to the one true God. And may Allah grant us good judgment and bind us with the righteous. Āmīn.
Healing Hearts of Believers in Times of Tribulation
jawad a. qureshi, associate professor
“And heal the breasts of people who believe, and remove the anger of their hearts.”
Qur’an 9:14
In the year 628, six years after fleeing his native Mecca to the oasis settlement of Yathrib to the north, the Prophet Muhammad a chose the path of peace in his struggles with the Quraysh. Having been shown a vision of himself at the Sacred Precinct, of entering the Kaaba with head shaved and its keys in his hands, the Prophet a set out from Dhū al-Ĥulayfah in the company of a thousand of his companions on the minor pilgrimage (‘umrah), donning his pilgrim’s garb, thereby entering the state of sanctification (iĥrām). As word spread, the number of pilgrims grew, and the surrounding tribes joined. The swelling caravan made camp at Ĥudaybiyah, where the Prophet a received delegations from Mecca; after four years of armed hostilities, raids, and battles, the Meccans sought to negotiate terms and deter him from entering the city. The Prophet a remarked to his companions, “Today, whatever condition the Quraysh set which honors the sanctities of Allah, I shall agree to it.”
Against the pleas of his prominent companions, the Prophet a ultimately signed a treaty that advantaged the Quraysh over the fledgling community around him. It required that the Prophet a return to Medina and instead perform the pilgrimage the following year, while being granted only three days to do so; both sides also agreed to a ten-year armistice. Further, the agreement prevented the Prophet a from accepting any Meccan convert who journeyed to Medina and obligated the Muslims to return the convert to the Quraysh, while members from the Prophet’s community could defect and join the Meccans without a reciprocal obligation. More importantly, the parties agreed that the various tribes of Arabia could enter alliances with either the Quraysh or the Prophet a. The Prophet a shaved his head and sacrificed an animal, freeing himself of the sanctity of the pilgrim’s garb, and then set out to return to Medina. The opening verses of the sura Al-Fatĥ were revealed at that time, framing what his Companions deemed a losing compromise instead as a victory from God: “Verily, We have given you a manifest victory (48:1).”
At the fateful treaty at Ĥudaybiyah were men from the tribes of Khuzā‘ah and Bakr, and an old rivalry pre-dating Islam ran between the two. In the new political alignments following Ĥudaybiyah, the Khuzā‘ah sided with the Prophet a while the Bakr sided with the Meccans. This rivalry ultimately broke the peace that the Prophet a had brokered. Before Ramadan in the eighth year after the hijrah, men from the Bakr tribe approached the leaders of the
Quraysh and petitioned them for men and weapons to attack the Khuzā‘ah. In a surprise attack, twenty men from the Khuzā‘ah were killed by the Bakr with support from the Quraysh, thereby breaking the armistice. The leaders of the Khuzā‘ah approached the Prophet a, pleading with him to honor their alliance and avenge their dead. The Quraysh, realizing what this meant, dispatched Abū Sufyān to Medina in an attempt to placate the Prophet a, but to no avail.
In this context, the beginning verses of the sura Al-Tawbah were revealed, detailing the consequences of breaking their treaty, and included one of the “verses of healing”:
Fight them; God will punish them by your hands, and expel them, and help you against them, and heal the breasts of people who believe, and remove the anger of their hearts. And God will turn to whomever God will; and God is all-knowing, most wise. (Qur’an 9:14–15)
Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī notes that this verse was revealed to quell the passions of the irascible soul that the Khuzā‘ah felt in their desire to avenge their fallen tribesmen. The verse describes their state with the word ghayż, which alRāghib al-Aśfahānī glosses as an “intense anger, … the heat that a person feels from the boiling flow of blood from their heart.” The healing in this verse is the removal of the very justifiable rage that the Khuzā‘ah felt through granting permission to avenge their dead.
However, if the Khuzā‘ah felt rage overflowing them and a desire for revenge, the focus of the Prophet a was entirely on God and the realization of his dream two years earlier. Not unlike the prophet Joseph e—a Biblical patriarch who saw a dream wherein the sun, moon, and eleven stars bowed to him only to have it realized after a life of betrayal, tumult, and turmoil when he was reunited with his family, and they bowed toward him—the Prophet’s dream would also materialize in this world. Thus, in the month of Ramadan of the eighth year after his migration, he embarked again on pilgrimage to Mecca.
As his dream came to realization in the conquest of Mecca, Joseph’s virtues shone in the Prophet a. The Prophet a entered Mecca triumphantly, uncontested, and completed the rites of the minor pilgrimage. The Khuzā‘ah were allowed to avenge their dead but without excess, as the Prophet a forbade them to let hostilities continue beyond the late afternoon prayer. Turning his attention to the heads of the Quraysh, the Prophet a addressed them: “Assembly of Quraysh, what do you think I will do with you?” These were the people, now subjugated before him, who persecuted the Prophet a and his followers, ran them out of Mecca, and fought them for years. They responded, “Nothing but good, as you are a virtuous brother, the son of a virtuous brother!” To which the Prophet a chose Joseph’s words when the latter was reunited with his brothers who had tried to kill him: “No blame will there be upon you today. Allah will forgive you, and He is the most merciful of the merciful (12:92).”
The message of the Prophet a was not to reaffirm tribal allegiances and give in to the immediate, very human emotions of anger, rage, and desire for revenge. Rather, his message through and through pointed to one end: a call unto God and to enter His religion. In his qasida, Al-Hamziyyah, al-Būśīrī draws our attention to this aspect of the Prophet a:
If rending and mending relations are done for the sake of God then being near or far from loved ones would be the same.
Equal to him too, all that to him came from others, whether praise or blame.
Were his anger due to the soul’s passion then the break of kinship and estrangement would have continued. However, he stood for the sake of God in all affairs, pleasing God thereby in both severing bonds and in loyalty.
His acts, all of them, are beautiful— for what can flow from a vessel other than what it contains?
Zaytuna’s muśallā offers a tranquil space for connecting with the Qur’an
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