The Abrahamic Connection of the Islamic Pilgrimage

(Text of the khuṭbah delivered at UBC on Friday, October 19, 2012)

[First khuṭbah]

الحمد لله رب العالمين، والصلاة والسلام على الأنبياء والمرسلين.

We praise God who is the sustainer of all that exists, and we invoke His blessings on His messengers.

When I delivered khuṭbah back in September, I said I would talk about īmān bi‑al‑ghayb the next time I was scheduled as khaṭīb.

But when I got down to prepare for the khuṭbah, I realized that we are approaching ‘īd al‑aḍḥá.

So I thought I would defer a discussion of īmān bi‑al‑ghayb to a later khuṭbah.

And today, I am going to talk about the connection of ḥajj and ‘īd al-aḍḥá with the celebrated messenger of God, the leader of anbiyā’, Ibrāhīm (may peace and God’s blessings be upon him).

Let me begin by recapping some of the rituals in ḥajj and their connection with Ibrāhīm, Hājar, and Ismā‘īl.

As we all know, in the second week of Dhū al‑Ḥijjah, the last month of the Islamic-Hijrī calendar, several million people from all over the world gather in Makkah for the major Islamic pilgrimage.

During the pilgrimage, the pilgrims circle around Ka‘bah, a building erected by Ibrāhīm and his son Ismā‘īl as a center of monotheism in the Arabian peninsula. The practice of circling around Ka‘bah is called ṭawāf in Arabic. The significance of ṭawāf lies in its connection with Ibrāhīm and Ismā‘il.

In fact, the significance of Ka‘bah that serves as our direction in prayers lies in its Abrahamic connection.

(Before Ka‘bah, the sanctuary in Jerusalem served as direction for Islamic prayers, and that too was established by Ibrāhīm along with his other son, Isḥāq, or Isaac.)

The pilgrims also run or walk between Mount Ṣafā and Mount Marwah, and that is called sa‘y in Arabic. This running between the two hills is commemoration of Hājar’s quest for water.

Hājar is believed to have run back and forth between the two hills when she was desperately looking for water to quench her baby’s thirst – after which the source of water called Zam Zam is believed to have sprung in the vicinity of Ka‘bah.

Another two rituals in ḥajj are throwing stones at the pillars and sacrificing an animal. Both of these are commemoration of Ibrāhīm’s willingness to sacrifice his dear son Ismā‘īl when he was a healthy young adult – a source of strength for his father.

Throwing stones at the pillars is called ramy al‑jimār, or ramy al‑jamarāt in Arabic. The pillars represent the spots where Ibrāhīm is believed to have been tempted by Shayṭān not to sacrifice Ismā‘īl. He overcame the temptation each time and moved on to sacrifice his son.

And sacrificing an animal is commemoration of Ibrāhīm’s actual act of sacrifice, at which point God told Ibrāhīm that he had passed the test and accepted an animal in sacrifice instead of his beloved son Ismā‘īl.

And as the pilgrims complete their ḥajj, up to a quarter of world’s population celebrates ‘īd al‑aḍḥá and those who can afford sacrifice an animal to remind themselves of Ibrāhīm and his willingness to sacrifice his son.

Imagine how pleased God was with Ibrāhīm that several millennia after he lived on this planet, human beings continue to celebrate and commemorate his devotion to God.

God has indeed favored Ibrāhīm.

سلام على إبراهيم؛ كذلك نجزي المحسنين؛ إنه من عبادنا المؤمنين. (الصافات 109–111)

Peace be upon Ibrāhīm! This is how God rewards those who strive for excellence. Indeed Ibrāhīm was among those of God’s ‘ibād who truly believed.

وَمَنْ أَحْسَنُ دِينًا مِّمَّنْ أَسْلَمَ وَجْهَهُ لِلَّـهِ وَهُوَ مُحْسِنٌ وَاتَّبَعَ مِلَّةَ إِبْرَاهِيمَ حَنِيفًا وَاتَّخَذَ اللَّـهُ إِبْرَاهِيمَ خَلِيلًا (النساء 125)

And who could be better in religion than one who surrenders oneself to God, strives for excellence, and is straightforward in following the path of Ibrāhīm – for Ibrāhīm was a close friend of God!

ومن يرغب عن ملة إبراهيم إلا من سفه نفسه؛ ولقد اصطفيناه في الدنيا وإنه في الآخرة لمن الصالحين (البقرة 130)

And who could turn away from the path of Ibrāhīm except the foolish? Indeed God raised his status in this world; and in the afterlife, he shall be among the righteous.

Now the question before us is: why are so many rituals in the Islamic pilgrimage connected with Ibrāhīm?

To answer this question, we’ll have to examine the significance of Ibrāhīm in the broader Qur’anic discourse.

I have tried to survey passages of Qur’an that help us place Ibrāhīm in the bigger Qur’anic picture.

The passages are numerous, and they are often very long. To keep it brief, I’ve chosen to talk about a stretch of āyāt in the second sūrah of Qur’an, al‑Baqarah. This passage in Sūrat al‑Baqarah that I am talking about pretty much covers all the themes discussed in Qur’an in this connection. To cover themes that are not discussed in this passage, I’ll refer occasionally to some other āyāt too.

In Sūrat al-Baqarah 142–152, God talks about the change of qiblah from Jerusalem to the sanctuary in Makkah, and how that signified a transfer of charge from the Israelites to the followers of Muhammad.

وكذلك جعلناكم أمتا وسطا لتكونوا شهداء على الناس ويكون الرسول عليكم شهيدا (البقرة 143)

And with this change of qiblah, you have been made the ummat wasaṭ that will make the message available to humankind and bear witness against them before God, just as the Messenger conveyed the message unto you and shall bear witness against you in God’s court.

Just before this account of the change of qiblah, in 124–141, God recounts how Ibrāhīm constructed Ka‘bah and established the sanctuary in Makkah along with his son Ismā‘īl.

وعهدنا إلى إبراهيم وإسماعيل أن طهرا بيتي للطائفين والعاكفين والركع السجود (البقرة 125)

The account suggests that Ibrāhīm and Ismā‘īl wished their descendants to be an ummah muslimah – a community of people who surrendered themselves to God.

ربنا واجعلنا مسلمين لك ومن ذريتنا أمة مسلمة لك (البقرة 128)

It is also suggested that Muhammad’s appointment as Messenger is connected with Ibrāhīm’s du‘ā’ to raise a Messenger among his descendants in Arabia.

ربنا وابعث فيهم رسولا منهم يتلوا عليهم آياتك ويعلمهم الكتاب والحكمة ويزكيهم (البقرة 129)

The account further suggests that God’s commission of responsibility and favors did not cover those of Ibrāhīm’s descendants who swerve from the path – لا ينال عهدي الظالمين – which is an appeal to the ahl al‑kitāb, some of whom thought they were God’s chosen ones regardless of what kind of a life they lived.

The account emphasizes that Ibrāhīm and his immediate descendants Ismā‘īl, Isḥāq, and Ya‘qūb (who is also known as Israel) – all of them – invited people to God alone.

And Muhammad (ṣallá Allāh ‘alayhi wa-sallam) is urged to reaffirm that he and his followers believe in what was revealed unto Ibrāhīm, Ismā‘īl, Isḥāq, Jacob, Moses, Jesus and all other Messengers, and that they do not distinguish between God’s messengers.

قُولُواْ آمَنَّا بِاللّهِ وَمَآ أُنزِلَ إِلَيْنَا وَمَا أُنزِلَ إِلَى إِبْرَاهِيمَ وَإِسْمَاعِيلَ وَإِسْحَقَ وَيَعْقُوبَ وَالأسْبَاطِ وَمَا أُوتِيَ مُوسَى وَعِيسَى وَمَا أُوتِيَ النَّبِيُّونَ مِن رَّبِّهِمْ لاَ نُفَرِّقُ بَيْنَ أَحَدٍ مِّنْهُمْ وَنَحْنُ لَهُ مُسْلِمُونَ (البقرة 136)

Muhammad (ṣallá Allāh ‘alayhi wa-sallam) is urged, thus, to invite his audience to the path of Ibrāhīm (135) – قل بل ملة إبراهيم حنيفا.

In Sūrat Āl ‘Imrān 95–97, in another context of dialogue with the ahl al‑kitāb, God says,

قُلْ صَدَقَ اللّهُ فَاتَّبِعُواْ مِلَّةَ إِبْرَاهِيمَ حَنِيفًا وَمَا كَانَ مِنَ الْمُشْرِكِينَ (آل عمران 95)

Say, O Muhammad, God’s account concerning the teachings of past messengers is true; follow then the creed of Ibrāhīm, who was straightforward in following the truth and did not assume divinity in things or beings other than God.

The āyāt continue,

إِنَّ أَوَّلَ بَيْتٍ وُضِعَ لِلنَّاسِ لَلَّذِي بِبَكَّةَ مُبَارَكًا وَهُدًى لِّلْعَالَمِينَ فِيهِ آيَاتٌ بَيِّـنَاتٌ مَّقَامُ إِبْرَاهِيمَ وَمَن دَخَلَهُ كَانَ آمِنًا وَلِلّهِ عَلَى النَّاسِ حِجُّ الْبَيْتِ مَنِ اسْتَطَاعَ إِلَيْهِ سَبِيلاً وَمَن كَفَرَ فَإِنَّ الله غَنِيٌّ عَنِ الْعَالَمِينَ (آل عمران 96-97)

Indeed the first temple ever set up for mankind is the one in Makkah. It is blessed and a source of guidance for everyone. It hosts clear signs, and the place where Ibrāhīm once stood. Whoever enters it finds peace and tranquility. Thus, humankind owes God a pilgrimage to this sanctuary – those who can afford to do it. And if some people deny the truth, let them know that God is ghanī ‘an al-‘ālamīn – He is not in need of anything from all that exists; least of all recognition by petty human beings.

Essentially, we notice that these Qur’anic accounts identify the mission of Muhammad (ṣallá Allāh ‘alayhi wa-sallam) with that of Ibrāhīm. This has dual implications: First, the identification of Muhammad’s mission with that of Ibrāhīm is part of the Qur’anic assumption of continuity in the missions of all prophets. Besides this, the identification of Muhammad’s mission with that of Ibrāhīm has particular implications too. I’ll talk about both aspects one by one.

Let’s see what the first one means: Qur’an proposes and assumes continuity and essential unity in the missions of all prophets and messengers of God.

The suggestion of unity and continuity in the missions of all prophets makes the Qur’anic narrative more coherent than any other narratives – Jewish, Christian, or otherwise. Simply put, the Qur’anic narrative makes sense; whereas the other narratives are not able to explain a lot of things.

The suggestion of unity and continuity in the missions of all prophets also makes the Qur’anic message more inclusive than any other. Thus, followers of the Qur’anic truth recognize and respect all messengers of God without distinction.

لا نفرق بين أحد من رسله

On the other hand, a follower of the Jewish tradition has to explain how they justify rejecting Jesus, Muhammad, and other messengers of God. Calling these prophets imposters doesn’t explain everything, because historical and otherwise accounts of their lives suggest that they had sublime character and influential personalities.

Similarly, a follower of the Christian tradition has to explain how they dismiss the powerful historical character known as Muhammad; they have to explain how they dismiss Qur’an, which is arguably the most powerful document surviving any prophet.

Clearly, the unity and continuity in the missions of all prophets that is proposed and emphasized by Qur’an lends credibility and strength to the mission of Muhammad (ṣallá Allāh ‘alayhi wa-sallam). It is part of the intellectual appeal of Qur’an and Muhammad’s mission.

Now let’s come to the particular implications of identifying Muhammad’s mission with Ibrāhīm’s path.

The Meccans in particular and Arabs in general considered themselves descendants of Ibrāhīm and Ismā‘īl – they were Ishmaelites. And Muhammad (ṣallá Allāh ‘alayhi wa-sallam) invited them to return to the path of Ibrāhīm. He invited them to just shun the corruption that occurred in their religion over time. Despite pagan influences in their religion, the Meccans did consider themselves followers of the Abrahamic religion when Muhammad (ṣallá Allāh ‘alayhi wa-sallam) announced nubūwah. So there was an element of appeal to the Meccans.

With respect to the ahl al‑kitāb who were predominantly Israelite (which means they were descendants of Jacob and Isaac), Ibrāhīm offered the point of unity where the Israelite and the Ishmaelite lines met. Ibrāhīm could bridge the Israelite and Ishmaelite divide. Many of you would be aware that one of the reasons why many Jews and Christians of the time refused to recognize Muhammad (ṣallá Allāh ‘alayhi wa-sallam) as a messenger of God was because he was an Ishmaelite, and they were suffering from an Israelite chauvinism.

So the identification of Muhammad’s message with Ibrāhīm enabled Muhammad (ṣallá Allāh ‘alayhi wa-sallam) to reach out to Jews and Christians who considered themselves descendants of Abraham through Jacob or Israel.

And let’s not forget Ibrāhīm is very much respected in Jewish and Christian traditions too. Jewish and Christian texts speak very highly of Abraham.

Thus, we have seen that the Qur’anic assumption of continuity in the missions of all prophets is part of the intellectual appeal of Qur’an and Muhammad’s mission. Also, identification of Qur’anic religion with Ibrāhīm enabled Muhammad (ṣallá Allāh ‘alayhi wa-sallam) to reach out to the Ishmaelite Arabs as well as the Israelite Jews and Christians.

With this I conclude the first khuṭbah.

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[Second khuṭbah]

الحمد لله، والصلاة والسلام على رسول الله.

Brothers and sisters, in the first khuṭbah, we have tried to understand the significance of Ibrāhīm in the broader Qur’anic discourse. We have also seen that ḥajj and ‘īd al‑aḍḥá are mostly about Ibrāhīm.

It is the broader significance of Ibrāhīm in the Qur’anic discourse that makes ḥajj and ‘īd al‑aḍḥá very significant for the purpose of reaching out to our non-Muslim brethren in humanity.

The occasion of ‘īd al‑aḍḥá and ḥajj provides an opportunity to remind ourselves of the Abrahamic connection in the Islamic pilgrimage and to educate our non-Muslim fellows about it. This is a potential opportunity to reach out to them. This is an opportunity for da‘wah.

To make full use of this opportunity, I’d like to share with you some of the things we could do on this occasion:

At an individual level, we could greet non-Muslims peers and friends – say ‘īd mubārak to them.

Those of us who sacrifice animals on this occasion could share the meat with their neighbors, and include an introductory note of educational nature about ḥajj and ‘īd al‑aḍḥá, or just talk to them about it – tell them what it is about.

Those of us who are good at writing could write articles for newspapers and popular media educating readers about the Muslim festival that commemorates Abraham’s devotion to God.

Then there are some initiatives that we could take at the community level.

For example, the Muslim Food Bank could distribute food and meat among the needy with introductory notes.

We could make documentary films to be aired on TV channels, YouTube or other media.

We could organize public talks primarily aimed at non-Muslim audiences. Advertise them in mainstream newspapers.

These were some of the things that come to my mind. As a community, we can come up with more ideas.

I’ll conclude by saying that we need to make use of this opportunity to reach out to non-Muslim members of our society. Ḥajj and ‘īd al‑aḍḥá provide an opportunity to introduce Islam to people and to promote inter-religious harmony.

إن الله وملائكته يصلون على النبي، ياأيها الذين آمنوا صلوا عليه وسلموا تسليما.

اللهم صل على محمد كما صليت على إبراهيم إنك حميد مجيد.

اللهم بارك على محمد كما باركت على إبراهيم إنك حميد مجيد.

اللهم ارحمنا بالقرآن الكريم، واجعله لنا إماما ونورا وهدى ورحمة،

اللهم ذكرنا منه ما نسينا وعلمنا منه ما جهلنا

وارزقنا تلاوته آناء اليل وآناء النهار

واجعله لنا حجة يارب العالمين

اللهم أرنا الحق حقا وارزقنا اتباعه وأرنا الباطل باطلا وارزقنا اجتنابه

اللهم إنا نسألك رزقا واسعا وعلما نافعا وعملا متقبلا

ربنا اشرح لنا صدورنا ويسر لنا أمورنا واحلل عقدة من ألسنتنا يفقهوا قولنا

ربنا آتنا في الدنيا حسنة وفي الآخرة حسنة وقنا عذاب النار

سبحان ربك رب العزة عما يصفون وسلام على المرسلين والحمد لله رب العالمين

وأقم الصلاة.

Ramaḍān: the time to reconnect with Qur’an

(Text of the khuṭbah delivered at UBC on Friday, July 28, 2012)

[First khuṭbah]

الحمد لله رب العالمين والصلاة والسلام على الأنبياء والمرسلين،

أما بعد، قال الله تعالى في القرآن الكريم:

وقال تعالى:

وقال تعالى أيضا:

We praise God, who is the sustainer of all that exists, and we invoke His blessings on His messengers.

Brothers and sisters, I have recited before you three passages from Qur’an.

In the first of these passages (al-Baqarah 185), God says Ramaḍān is the month in which Qur’an was sent down as guidance and (a set of) clear signs. So believers who witness the month should fast.

In the second of these passages (al-Dukhān 3–6), God says He sent down Qur’an in the “blessed night” as mercy for mankind.

In the third passage (al-Qadr 1), God says He sent down Qur’an during the “night of power”.

We notice in these āyāt that the revelation of Qur’an in Ramaḍān makes the month special, so God wants us to fast during the month. Blessed is the night during which Qur’an was revealed. The night becomes the night of power, in which all matters of importance are decided upon.

I have tried to draw your attention to the fact that the Qur’anic connection of Ramaḍān is what makes the month special. And why does the revelation of Qur’an make the month special?

Because this word of God that we know as Qur’an is the bedrock of the Islamic religion. It is the decisive evidence from God’s side that strips all false religious notions of any significance. It is the sulṭān, the burhān that seriously undermines all false religious and quasi-religious ideas. The Qur’anic scripture is the main advantage Islam has over other religions. This is why the month is special.

So when the month arrives, God wants us to commemorate the revelation of Qur’an by fasting during the month, and reading through the āyāt of Qur’an during the night prayers and otherwise. It is a time to reconnect with Qur’an.

It is a time not only to recite the passages of Qur’an, but to understand them, and to remind ourselves of what Qur’an has to offer. It is a time to rediscover the Qur’anic basis for our belief and action.

Yet, regrettably, most of us fail to achieve any significant reconnection with Qur’an.

It is because we only recite Qur’an without understanding it. Even when we try to understand Qur’an, we look at it from a narrow fiqhī (or juristic) perspective. We are so occupied by what I call the “Islamic legalism” that we fail to see how much more Qur’an has to offer.

In particular, we miss out on two important dimensions of the Qur’anic discourse: (1) the Qur’anic attempt to generate an ethical consciousness in a reader, (2) the Qur’anic justification of Islamic belief. These are the two dimensions I would like to talk about today.  

[Ethical Dimension of the Qur’anic Discourse]

I will first talk about the ethical consciousness that Qur’an seeks to awaken in a reader.

Brothers and sisters, there are actually very few clearly-cut legal precepts or instructions concerning individual behavior in Qur’an. Much of Qur’an is actually concerned with stirring up a God-fearing conscience (or ḍamīr, as it is called in Arabic) that would guide a reader through his life. Qur’an wants to turn us into ethical beings. Qur’an wants to stir up taqwá in us. And what is taqwá?

It is a state of mind where one loves God and fears His displeasure. It is a state of consciousness that keeps us from doing what is wrong, and facilitates us in doing what is right. It is moral consciousness that guides us in everything we say or do. It is the consciousness of God that makes us humble and perceptive to advice and admonition; we are no longer rash and dismissive in our approach. And it is this moral consciousness that Qur’an wants to instill in us.

When someone came to the Messenger to find out about virtue (or birr), he reportedly said,

استفت قلبك، البر ما اطمأنت إليه النفس واطمأن إليه القلب، والإثم ما حاك في النفس وتردد في الصدر وإن أفتاك الناس وأفتوك.

Ask your heart! Virtue is what satisfied your nafs and your heart. And evil is what causes friction in your nafs, and about which you waver, even if people tell you again and again (that it is ok to do it). (reported in Ibn Ḥanbal’s Musnad, al-Dārimī’s Sunan, and al-Nawawī’s Forty Ḥadīth)

In this instance, the Messenger was talking about the same ethical consciousness that Qur’an seeks to awaken in us.

So why does Qur’an want to instill in us this moral consciousness?

It is because the number of situations where we have to discern right from wrong are infinite. No degree of legalism and no amount of fiqhī literature can cover for the kind of situations we come across in our lives. In so many situations, we must exercise our judgment.

But we see that we are not used to exercising our judgment. We stumble and trip when fiqhī guidance is not available. So many of us are highly observant of fiqhī precepts, but are still not effective moral beings.

It is because we have been missing out on the ethical dimension of the Qur’anic discourse. We are not the kind of ethical beings that Qur’an wanted us to be.

It is the absence of this ethical consciousness and our fixation with fiqh that results in such simplistic inferences as: “Islam emphasizes shūrá, so democracy must be Islamic” or “‘Uthmān Ibn ‘Affān was a wealthy merchant, so why should Islam have a problem with capitalism?”

Look at some of the Western critiques of democracy and capitalism, and look at the naivety of the contemporary Islamic discourse. We need to be more creative than that. And a greater degree of creativity is only possible when we have imbibed the ethical spirit of Qur’an and approach the contemporary world with a critical Islamic mind.

Fiqh cannot take us so far. Law-making and jurisprudence is essential for a civilization, but not sufficient by itself to sustain a civilization. This is because jurisprudence by nature is reactive. Jurisprudence considers the permissibility or impermissibility of a phenomenon only in retrospect. Jurisprudence does not invent new products for human civilization. Nor can jurisprudence evaluate complex civilizational developments such as democracy and capitalism. Jurisprudence is only good for pruning of civilizational reality.

For centuries now, we have been missing Islamic creativity and we are almost exclusively occupied with fiqh. The result is that we have no share in shaping the reality that surrounds us. We are only trying to reconcile with a reality that others have created for us. We are trying to find ways to reconcile with contemporary economic and banking practices. We are trying to see what kind of a transformation has gelatin undergone in marshmallows, so we could eat them. We are appealing to the fiqhī precept of istihlāk (or dilution) so we could eat cheese made with the help of animal enzyme. We have even come up with a discipline called fiqh al-aqallīyāt – the fiqh for Muslim minorities.

But the bitter truth is that we are at the tail-end of civilization. We are mere consumers of civilization. We have no share whatsoever in shaping the reality around us. And every other product of contemporary civilization flouts our religious ideals.

So do you think our fixation with fiqh is sustainable? How long can we last like that?

If we want to have any share in shaping the reality around us, if we want to contribute anything to human civilization; we have to resuscitate Islamic creativity in all walks of life, in all fields of studies, in all aspects of civilization. And for this, we have to experience the ethical dimension of the Qur’anic discourse first hand – it is indispensable.

A new Islamic reality will only come into being if each one of us imbibes the ethical spirit of Qur’an, and we pursue diverse fields of studies, master them, and then invent a range of civilizational products that are Islamic at heart.  

[Qur’anic case for the Islamic religion]

Let me now turn to the second dimension of the Qur’anic discourse that we tend to miss out: that is the Qur’anic justification of Islamic belief, the Qur’anic case for the Islamic religion.

Qur’an informs and educates us about the metaphysical reality. It records the objections of the audiences of various Messengers and responds to them. Qur’an even addresses issues like atheism – which we tend to think of as new challenges. But the truth is that the audiences of many Messengers behaved in atheistic ways. And Qur’an records that.

The Israelites, for example, said to Mūsá that we shall not believe you unless you bring God face-to-face with us (al-Baqarah 55). Similarly, Fir‘awn asked Hamān to build a lofty tower so that he may see Mūsá’s God (al-Qaṣaṣ 38, al-Mu’min 36). What is this other than frank atheism?

Qur’an responds to such objections and argues its case, and provides us the basis for our belief and action.

Regrettably, many of us today do not know why we believe certain things and why we behave in certain ways. The minds of the youth are marred by doubts. And as a community, we are failing to answer their questions and clear their doubts. Again, because of our fixation with fiqh, we are only talking about what is expected of them as Muslims, but many of them are not even sure if they should continue to be Muslims – may be not among those who come to Friday prayers; but there are so many others who no longer come to mosques.

Only a reconnection with Qur’an and an experience of the Qur’anic case can alleviate such confusions. We have taken certain things for granted for too long. It is time that we re-discover their Qur’anic bases.

With this I conclude the first khuṭbah. May Allah enable us to reconnect with Qur’an! Amen.  

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[Second khuṭbah]

الحمد لله والصلاة والسلام على رسول الله.

Brothers and sisters: In the first khuṭbah, I have talked about the need to reconnect with Qur’an. In particular, I have talked about the need to experience the ethical dimension of the Qur’anic discourse, and the need to experience the Qur’anic case and the Qur’anic justification for the Islamic religion.

Of course, for this purpose, we need to read and understand Qur’an.

But there are some barriers that keep us from approaching Qur’an successfully. In the second khuṭbah, I want to briefly talk about those barriers and how we can overcome some of them.  

[Barriers to approaching Qur’an]

The first of these barriers is not knowing Arabic, and having to rely on translations that are not so exciting. 

In this regard, I can only encourage you to learn the language. It’s going to take a few years, but we have to start somewhere. With all the resources available nowadays on the internet to learn the Arabic language, I don’t think we have any excuse not to learn the language, particularly when we can spend so much time and money to study secular disciplines of knowledge.

The second barrier is commentaries or tafāsīr of Qur’an.

As strange as it may sound, the commentaries can sometimes be a veil that blocks access to the word of God. Commentaries can be very distracting. If you try to read the commentary for each and every āyah, you may never finish your first reading of Qur’an. 

Also, if we read too much of commentary, we tend to get so close to the tree that we lose sight of the jungle. While we explore the details in an āyah, we often lose the big picture; we fail to follow the discussion in a sūrah.

I am a beginner myself, but if I may recommend, I’d say that you try to avoid commentary as much as possible. Try to follow the actual text of Qur’an (or its translation). Read commentary only when it’s absolutely necessary – when you cannot decipher the meaning of an āyah otherwise.

Finally, our impression that Qur’an is to be read by specialists only is a barrier too.

The argument for specialization sounds great: if we have specialization in medicine and law, why should the study of Islam be an exception? Why should we not rely on specialists in the study of Qur’an and Islam just as we rely on qualified physicians and lawyers in medicine and law respectively?

But the problem is that not every one of you is a practitioner of medicine and law. Yet every one of you is a practitioner of religion. And being practitioners of religion, you ought to know religion as much as a general physician knows medicine – and a general physician knows quite a bit of medicine.

In his time, the Messenger gave concessions to people who were Bedouins, who could not read and write, and who were struggling for survival on a daily basis. Those concessions were not for people like myself and you, who can afford to be at a university, who are well-versed in one or more languages, who are studying for better livelihoods, who have all kinds of resources available at their disposal. If anything is lacking, it is the drive to learn more about Islam and ability to manage time effectively. I don’t think those concessions apply to us – the educational elite of the Muslim world.

I am sure many of you try to recite Qur’an during Ramaḍān, and you aim to finish at least one reading by the end of the month. Let me propose another way to finish a reading of Qur’an by the end of Ramaḍān next year:

Next Ramaḍān, instead of reading Qur’an in just 30 days without understanding, I propose that you start reading Qur’an with understanding now or in Shawwāl. Try to study two juz’ and a half every month, and in twelve months (by the end of Ramaḍān next year), you’ll have finished 30 juz’ – you’ll finish one reading of Qur’an with understanding. Two juz’ and a half is not a lot for a month.

My first reading of Qur’an was like that: it was over a period of one year in a ḥalaqah.

And it helps to be in a ḥalaqah or a study circle. The circle pulls you when you slow down, and keeps you going when you would otherwise fall out.  

[Du‘ā’]

Brothers and sisters, Let us pray to God:

O Allah, bless us with Your mercy in the first ten days of Ramaḍān, Your forgiveness in the next ten days, and rescue us from hellfire in the last ten days of Ramaḍān.

O Allah, help our oppressed brethren in Burma, Asam, Kashmir, Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Palestine, and Bahrain.

O Allah, help the oppressed people throughout the world. Make things easy for them.

O Allah, enable us to reconnect with Qur’an this Ramaḍān and the following year.

اللهم ارحمنا بالقرآن الكريم، واجعله لنا إماما ونورا وهدى ورحمة، اللهم ذكرنا منه ما نسينا، وعلمنا منه ما جهلنا، وارزقنا تلاوته آناء اليل وآناء النهار، واجعله لنا حجة يارب العالمين.

اللهم أرنا الحق حقا وارزقنا اتباعه، وأرنا الباطل باطلا وارزقنا اجتنابه.

اللهم إنا نسألك رزقا واسعا وعلما نافعا وعملا متقبلا.

ربنا اشرح لنا صدورنا، ويسر لنا أمورنا، واحلل عقدة من ألسنتنا يفقهوا قولنا.

ربنا آتنا في الدنيا حسنة وفي الآخرة حسنة وقنا عذاب النار.

سبحان ربك رب العزة عما يصفون، وسلام على المرسلين، والحمد لله رب العالمين.

وأقم الصلاة.

Moon-sighting and the Beginning of a Lunar Month for Muslims

The Islamic-hijrī calendar is a lunar calendar based on the revolution of moon around the earth. The calendar is still used to determine the beginning and the end of the month of fasting (i.e. Ramaḍān) and the beginning of the month of Islamic pilgrimage or ḥajj (i.e. Dhū al-Ḥijjah), if not for other purposes.

Traditionally, sighting of the waxing crescent (hilāl) has been used to mark the end of one lunar month and the beginning of the next. This is in accordance with Qur’an and the recorded practice of Muḥammad (ṣallá allāh ‘alayhi wa-sallama) that identify hilāl as a marker of the beginning of a month. However, neither Qur’an nor the recorded practice of the messenger forbid the use of other means to establish the end of a month and the beginning of the next.

Awaiting the beginning of Ramaḍān 1433 last night, I was puzzled and somewhat disturbed by the way some organizations in Vancouver, Canada announced Friday, July 20 to be the first day of Ramaḍān and others delayed it until Saturday, July 21.

While some members of the Muslim community are concerned about unity (or disunity) of Muslims across a country (as large as Canada) or even a continent, and some others are concerned about adhering to the Islamic texts as closely as possible, I am most troubled by the beginning of Ramaḍān or the celebration of ‘īd on two different days within the same city, sometimes within the same household. Of course, difficulty scheduling your days off from work is an issue too, but not so big as two members of the same family celebrating ‘īd on two different days.

Last night, most Islamic organizations in Vancouver, BC that claim to follow the “calculation” method (as if there is just one type of calculation) announced the beginning of Ramaḍān from Friday, July 20. Two organizations that insist on actual moon-sighting delayed the beginning of Ramaḍān until Saturday, July 21. Pro-calculation Muslims quickly responded to the announcement of Ramaḍān by organizations that have the reputation of being pro-calculation. Even though I am pro-calculation myself, I was troubled by the fact that hilāl was impossible even by calculation in Vancouver last night, yet the pro-calculation organizations announced the beginning of Ramaḍān. The moon set in Vancouver at 9:05 pm, three minutes before sunset (9:08 pm) on July 19. Today, on July 20, the moon will set at 9:32 pm, twenty five minutes after sunset (9:07 pm) – today is the first time the waxing crescent will last on the horizon for a few minutes after sunset, whether we see it or not.

How do organizations that announced the beginning of Ramaḍān last night justify their decision then? They appeal to another fiqhī precept that the moon sighted in one part of a Muslim state is enough of a justification to start Ramaḍān throughout the state – even if hilāl is impossible in some towns. The view dates as far back as Abū Ḥanīfah. Here the question arises: why should such anomaly be tolerated if the initial justification for substituting actual moon-sighting with “calculation” was the “certainty” and “accuracy” conferred by modern astronomical calculations? How can people appeal to the certainty/accuracy offered by astronomical calculations to abandon actual moon-sighting, and then abandon the same accuracy of astronomical calculations for their city to join such transnational organizations as ISNA or FCNA in beginning and ending Ramaḍān? This does not make sense!

Organizations that forsake the accuracy of astronomical calculation as well as actual moon-sighting for their towns to join transnational organizations or even Saudi Arabia may cite the desire for unity across countries, continents, even the globe as a justification for this. Yet there will be people (like myself) in every town, who would delay beginning or ending Ramaḍān until hilāl is actually possible in their town. The inevitable result is that people in the same city will celebrate ‘īd on two different days. Why? Because some of us seek transnational unity while ignoring the need for unity within a town and within a household!

I argue for a shift of emphasis from transnational and trans-continental unity to unity within a city and a household. That is only possible if people are more concerned with when its going to be hilāl (either by calculation or by actual sighting of the moon) in their own towns. And, of course, they will have to stop looking up to transnational organizations like ISNA and FCNA to tell them when to start or end their Ramaḍān. (At some point, these transnational organizations will have to be told too that they need not cater to every town in a continent – or if they so want to help, they should tell individual towns when its going to be hilāl for them.)

Local unity is easier to achieve than global unity. Moreover, if we are truly concerned about beginning and ending Ramaḍān when its really due, unity beyond a town is neither desirable nor possible. When a country is huge, hilāl is possible in some cities before others. Why should we even try to get people from distant cities to begin Ramaḍān or celebrate ‘īd the same day? Yet, it is desirable that people residing in the same city begin Ramaḍān and celebrate ‘īd the same day.

So how do we proceed? How do we effect a shift in emphasis from global to local unity? As difficult as it may seem, we cannot escape the need for consensus among members of the Muslim community. That consensus, if at all possible, cannot be achieved without educating the Muslim public and seeking their opinion in turn. Thus, the issue will have to be publicly debated, and consensus built by passing resolutions. Some individuals, mosques, and/or organizations who do not fear individual Muslims' agency will have to take the initiative. Others will come along later.

It is difficult, but not impossible. What we need is vision and will!

PS: Some of my friends have objected to my advocacy of “unity”. I understand unity is an over-rated (and arguably a false) value, but I think it is impossible to escape the desirability of “unity” (at the level of a town) in a “comm-unity” affair like ‘īd. Even so, I have not gone so far as to suggest formulae for “uniting” pro-calculation and pro-sighting Muslims in a town. This is because I do not think people should forsake their principled stances for the sake of unity. From my point of view, if only the calculationist Muslims showed greater concern for the possibility (or impossibility) of hilāl in their own town than joining transnational organizations or the Government of Saudi Arabia, Muslims in any city would be much likelier to begin Ramaḍān and celebrate ‘īd the same day.

Stretching Qur'an and Ḥadīth too far? Explore other avenues instead!

Before I say what I have to say, I would like readers to watch this short video clip:

The speaker must be known to many of you, but that is irrelevant, for he is not the only who does what I am about to point out.

And I am not going to talk about whether marches and protests are put together by godless socialists (as he calls them) or not. Nor am I going to talk about the cameras of secret services that, according to him, take shots of protesters' faces, even of the iris inside their eyes, and record patterns of their voices.

I am concerned with the things he says in the name of religion. I am concerned with his unequivocal "No" that he attributes to Islam in response to a question concerning the permissibility of protests. I am concerned that he says protests and marching through the streets is for people who are weak in their faith, and then makes a fallacious reference to a ḥadīth to buttress his claim. I am concerned how he says protesting is the way of kuffār, because that is essentially a religious claim.

Does the piece of Islamic evidence (i.e. the ḥadīth) he has cited really support his claims? Let's see!

Muslim has recorded the report of Abū Sa‘īd al-Khudrī that Muhammad (may peace and God's blessings be upon him) said,

من رأى منكم منكرا فليغيره بيده فإن لم يستطع فبلسانه فإن لم يستطع فبقلبه وذلك أضعف الإيمان.

"Whoever among you witnesses an evil state, he should [seek to] change it by his hand; if he cannot do so, then by his tongue; if he cannot do that either, then in his heart, and that is the weakest of īmān."

The speaker cites this ḥadīth right after saying that protesting is for those who are weak in their faith, which implies that protesting is equivalent to merely condemning an evil in one's heart. Really? Is protesting merely condemning an evil in one's heart? I am afraid, it is not. It takes a person a lot of courage to participate in a protest and march through the streets, especially if it is in one of those countries where voices of dissent are brutally gagged. It means one is willing to take the risk of being recorded by the cameras of powerful secret services – a risk that the respected speaker thinks is not worth taking. That is clearly more than condemning evil in one's heart alone.

The speaker goes on to assign certain meanings to parts of the ḥadīth. Thus, he says changing an evil state by hand does not mean fighting, burning, looting, and throwing rocks – which he thinks protests are all about. Instead, he says changing an evil state by hand means to engage in some "industry", to "get involved", to become "socially active", to use one's heart, and to "spill some blood". Does the phrase in the ḥadīth really exclude protests (represented as fighting, burning, looting, and throwing rocks by the speaker) from its meaning, but allows being understood as engaging in some industry, getting involved, becoming socially active, using one's heart, and spilling some blood? No, indeed!

Similarly, he says seeking to change an evil state by one's tongue does not mean marching and shouting (as in protests). Instead, he says it means we should choose a representative who would speak on our behalf. Again, does the text of the ḥadīth lend to this kind of argument? No, it does not.

The fact is that the speaker's use of this ḥadīth is absolutely fallacious. The text of the ḥadīth does not at all preclude protests as one of the ways in which one's effort to change an evil state might manifest. Seeking to change evil states by hand or by tongue covers all kinds of practical efforts, including protests.

Such fallacious reference to Qur'an and ḥadīth is not uncommon. Why would people do that?

Speakers and authors sometimes refer to an āyah or a ḥadīth because that makes their argument look more authentic. People are likely to take them more seriously. Most lay persons do not see such flaws in an argument. So long as they hear an āyah of Qur'an or some ḥadīth, they would readily believe that the proposed idea is legitimately "Islamic".

Frail references to Qur'an and ḥadīth are also made out of a genuine desire to seek guidance from God's word and recorded practice of the Messenger. In itself, the desire to seek guidance from Qur'an and the Messenger's practice is praiseworthy. The problem occurs when we try to extort guidance when it's not there. Thus, when Qur'an and the recorded practice of the Messenger do not explicitly address an issue, we still try to find āyāt and aḥādīth that might be remotely connected to the matter. In the process, we stretch Qur'anic āyāt and aḥādīth too far. What comes out of this exercise is a flawed argument – an "Islamic" view that is marginally or not at all Islamic.

Instead of trying to spot āyāt and aḥādīth that are remotely (if at all) connected to a matter, it would be so much more useful if we admitted the absence of specific guidance in Qur'an and ḥadīth (when such is the case), and made use of natural/social scientific research tools to find out answers and solutions that are consistent with Islam, though not warranted by Qur'an and ḥadīth. In this way, Muslims would also contribute more significantly to advancement of human thought.

In the case of protests, for example, it would be so much more useful if we referred to experience of various communities with different forms of protest, instead of advancing a fallacious argument from ḥadīth (and inviting critics thereby to ridicule religion). I believe a whole lot of research would already be available that examines different ways of expressing political dissent, which of those ways have proven more useful than others, and what are the advantages and limitations of each of the ways in which people have raised their voices in recent past.

I believe tools of natural/social scientific and historical research can provide useful bases for ongoing legislation, just as humanly-conceived juristic tools (qiyās, istiḥsān, istiṣlāḥ, sadd al‑dharī‘ah etc.) of the past did. We need to explore and exploit the potential of contemporary research tools in informing policy and guiding legislation in matters that are not specifically addressed by Qur'an and authentic records of the Messenger's practice. Human solutions based on rigorous research are more likely to be useful than marginally Islamic views that result from stretching Qur'an and ḥadīth too far.

What the Qur'anic sense of justice entails

(Text of the khuṭbah delivered at UBC on Friday, January 27, 2012)

[First khuṭbah]

الحمد لله والصلاة والسلام على رسول الله، أما بعد قال الله تعالى في كتابه الحكيم:

وقال تعالى أيضا:

Brothers and sisters, I have recited before you two āyāt of Qur’an.

The first one from Sūrat al‑Nisā’ says, “O YOU who believe! Be upholders of justice, and testify to the truth, for the sake of God, even if it is against your own selves or your parents and kinsfolk. Whether the person concerned be rich or poor, God's claim takes precedence over [the claims of] either of them. Do not, then, follow your own desires, lest you swerve from justice. And if you distort [the truth] or avoid/ignore it, behold, God is indeed aware of all that you do!”

The second one from Sūrat al‑Mā’idah says, “O YOU who believe! Be, for the sake of God, upholders of and testifiers for justice; and the hatred of a people should not keep you from dispensing justice [to them]. Be just: this is closest to being God-conscious. And remain conscious of God: verily, God is aware of all that you do.

Brothers and sisters, these two āyāt beautifully outline the Qur’anic sense of justice.

First, Qur’an describes upholding justice as a religious duty – something that we do for the sake of God. Just as we pray for the sake of God, and we fast for the sake of God, establishment of justice is also something we do for the sake of God. And that is what is meant when God says “kūnū qawwāmīna … lillāh….”

The other thing we notice in these āyāt is how “self-criticism” or “introspection” and a policy of “no discrimination” are built in to the Qur’anic sense of justice.

Thus, when God says “wa‑law ‘alá anfusikum aw al‑wālidayn wa‑al‑aqrabīn”, He means that we should be willing to subject our own selves to the demands of justice.

And when He says “in yakun ghanīyan aw faqīran…”, or when He says “wa‑lā yajrimannakum shana’ān qawm ‘alá allā ta‘dilū”, He means that we should not discriminate between people on any grounds while we dispense or advocate justice.

Yet it appears that we, as a community, are lacking in each of these three dimensions of the Qur’anic sense of justice.

Even though Qur’an describes it as a religious duty, concern and advocacy for justice is no longer a priority or preoccupation for most of us. Most of us are actually silent bystanders.

When we do advocate justice, we protest crimes perpetrated by perceived enemies, but rarely do we protest crimes committed by members of our own communities, even though God requires us to subject our own selves to the demands of justice.

Finally, our sense of justice does not cover all; we often discriminate between people as we dispense justice. You would agree with me that discrimination is rampant, even institutionalized in Muslim societies.

I am going to briefly talk about each of these three dimensions. Without getting into particulars, I will try to identify a range of issues that deserve our attention and demand action.

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Let’s talk about the first one: that establishment of justice is a religious duty.

Brothers and sisters, we witness enormous injustices around ourselves, but we hardly protest! The challenges are tremendous, but our level of engagement is minimal. You would hardly know any Muslims who are associated with advocacy groups or civil rights movements.

We only seem to speak when we are directly affected, or when our image/reputation is at stake! Those two seem to be the reasons why we spoke up against the murder of three girls and their mother in Ontario, or why we spoke up in response to Jason Kenney’s controversial announcement.

But on a regular basis, we are hardly engaged in advocacy. I wonder how we would justify this casual attitude and lack of engagement before God.

And at least partly, this lack of engagement is because we don’t study social sciences. We are obsessed with science and technology. The result is that our understanding of social problems is less than optimal.

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Let’s come to the second dimension: that we should not discriminate between people as we dispense or advocate justice.

We do not want to be discriminated against as minorities.

Yet, discrimination is widespread in many parts of the Muslim world; it is so widespread and commonplace that sometimes we even fail to realize there is anything wrong with it.

There is discrimination in families, employment opportunities, pay scales, even by police, and in courts of law that dispense justice.

There is discrimination based on gender, ethnicity, and religion.

There is even racism. We use derogatory names to refer to certain communities. In Pakistan, for example, we have derogatory names for shī‘ah and Christians. Isn’t that outrageous?

In our advocacy on international issues, we support Syrian protesters, for example, but not those in Bahrain; because the populace in Bahrain is shī‘ah, so we don’t seem to care.

That goes to show that our concern for justice does not cover everyone! Our activism provides limited coverage! We speak for some, but not for others.

Let me reiterate brothers and sisters: God warns us that the enmity of a people should not keep us from delivering justice to them. Our concern for justice should cover all.

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Let’s talk about the third dimension now: Are we willing to subject our own communities to the demands of justice?

I’m afraid we are not! To begin with, we are not actively advocating justice. When we do speak up, we are very selective in expressing concern. We speak up against perceived enemies, but not against our own selves. If I could use a metaphor, we are not willing to be violated by outsiders, but we tend to tolerate wife-beaters at home; even though Qur’an requires us to subject everyone to the demands of justice.

We advocate freedom of speech in Canada, but in our countries of origin, we do not have a problem when voices of dissent are gagged.

We protest American or Israeli aggression. But we don’t protest the crimes committed by Pakistani soldiers in Bangladesh in 1971 (for example).

And nowadays, Bangladesh government is mistreating people associated with an organization that did not support independence of Bangladesh in 1971. We need to protest that as well.

We need to redress the Darfur tragedy in Sudan.

We need to urge Turkey to exercise restraint with Kurdish activists.

We should not only speak up when Jason Kenney says covering face is “un-Canadian”, but also advocate that Turkish or Tunisian women be allowed to wear scarves at schools or in government buildings.

We should also protest when Taliban or other Muslim fanatics force women to cover their faces. We should protest acid attacks on women who refuse to wear veils. After all, forcing women to wear a veil is as bad as forcing women not to wear a veil. Let women decide for themselves whether they want to cover their faces or not.

We should also protest when some religious vigilantes take al‑amr bi‑al‑ma‘rūf wa‑al‑nahy ‘an al‑munkar too far, and end up coercing people in matters of religion. They can advise people, but they cannot force them.

We should condemn the so-called “honor killings” not only when they occur in Canada and put our reputation at stake, but also when they occur in Muslim countries.

We should condemn forced marriages of women that happen so often in Muslim societies.

Do you know that women are even married to Qur’an sometimes in Pakistan, so that the property or wealth will not go outside the family? How many Pakistanis do you know who protest that? But on the other hand, Pakistanis are so concerned that the US might have wronged Afia Siddiqui.

Brothers and sisters, we must advocate justice across the board. We must fight injustice even when the perpetrator is an insider. We must guarantee justice to the weaker members of our societies, whether they are women, or ethnic or religious minorities, or foreigners.

In times of strength, we should not do things that we cannot defend in times of weakness. We should not do things for which critical historians would shame us!

With this I conclude the first part of my talk!

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[Second khuṭbah]

الحمد لله رب العالمين والصلاة والسلام على الأنبياء والمرسلين.

Brothers and sisters: Some of you might think why I am talking to you about this! You are “Canadians” now!

But do we not appreciate when some Canadians or Americans advocate justice for Palestinians even though they are not related to anyone in Palestine, and they are not even Muslims? Just like that, even after you start thinking of yourself as “Canadians”, you have a responsibility towards all parts of the world.

You have a responsibility towards all of humanity, because you are human beings. You have a responsibility towards the Muslim world because you are Muslims. You have a responsibility towards the Arab world, because you are Arabs.

And I’m sure, even after you become Canadians; you retain family ties with your countries of origin. Many of you, I’m sure, have dual citizenships.

So you continue to have responsibility towards your countries of origin, and other parts of the world.

Brothers and sisters, we have responsibility moreover because God has given us the opportunity to live as a minority and understand the importance of justice, religious freedom, freedom of speech, and not being discriminated against. Fellow Muslims who have lived all their lives in Muslim majority countries often do not understand the importance of these principles – partly because they are not minorities, and partly because these values are often packaged with anti-religious rhetoric, which goes back to the historical tensions between Christianity and secular humanism. We have a responsibility to articulate these values and concerns in a way that they would be received well by fellow Muslims across the world.

Those of us who are good at writing should write and publish about social problems and advocate social justice in countries of origin. We should talk to people back home. We should support organizations that are fighting oppression and injustice. We should make our own civil rights and advocacy groups if we are not satisfied with the existing groups. At the minimum, we could sometimes share news reports and write status lines on Facebook and Twitter to express concern over reposted acts of injustice, at home or abroad.

These are some of the ways in which, I thought, we can play our part in advocating and upholding justice. You can identify other ways in which you and other community members can play a part.

إن الله وملائكته يصلون على النبي؛ ياأيها الذين آمنوا صلوا عليه وسلموا تسليما.

اللهم صل على محمد كما صليت على إبراهيم إنك حميد مجيد؛ اللهم بارك على محمد كما باركت على إبراهيم إنك حميد مجيد.

اللهم أرنا الحق حقا وارزقنا اتباعه، وأرنا الباطل باطلا وارزقنا اجتنابه.

Brothers and sisters, join me as I pray to Allah subḥanah wa‑ta‘ālá: O Allah, show us what is right as right, and enable us to pursue it; and show us what is wrong as wrong, and enable us to refrain from it.

اللهم إنا نسألك رزقا واسعا وعلما نافعا وعملا متقبلا.

O Allah, we ask you for abundance of legitimate means, knowledge that benefits us individually as well as humanity collectively, and deeds and action that is deemed acceptable by you.

ربنا آتنا في الدنيا حسنة وفي الآخرة حسنة وقنا عذاب النار.

O Allah, give us the best in this world, and the best in the other life.

رب ارحمهم كما ربونا صغارا.

O Allah, be merciful to our parents just as they brought us up with love and mercy.

ربنا اشرح لنا صدورنا، ويسر لنا أمورنا، واحلل عقدة من ألسنتنا، يفقهوا قولنا.

O Allah, open our intellectual faculties for us, make the daunting tasks that we are faced with easy for us, and give us clarity and coherence in speech, so that our audiences understand us.

Brothers and sisters, Let us be among those who uphold justice, even if that means we sometimes have to testify against our own selves, our families, or our community; let us be upholders of justice regardless of whether the parties involved are rich or poor, influential or weak. And let not the enmity of a people keep us from delivering justice to them.

وأقم الصلاة.