Can Muslim women become scholars of Islam? Should they become Islamic scholars?

Zainab bint Younus speaks to Anse Tamara Gray, a Muslim woman scholar, all about the role that women play in protecting the Islamic intellectual tradition and why it’s so important for Muslim women to study Islam at various levels and capacities. Anse Tamara shares her vision for Muslim women becoming leaders of the Ummah, and introduces Ribaat University as a way to pursue those goals.

Shaykha Tamara Gray is a traditionally trained scholar of the Islamic sciences, having spent twenty years studying in Damascus. She also holds a doctorate in leadership from the University of St. Thomas and a master’s degree in Curriculum Theory and Instruction from Temple University.

Dr. Tamara is the founder and CEO of Rabata, an organization for Muslim women, by Muslim women, dedicated to providing Islamic education in beautiful, creative ways. She also serves as a Senior Fellow at the Yaqeen Institute and is a member of the Fiqh Council of North America.

Related:

ShaykhaTalk: Female Scholarship Or Feminism?

[Podcast] From The Maldives To Malaysia: A Shaykha’s Story | Shaykha Aisha Hussain Rasheed

Podcast: Muslim Women’s Spirituality In Ramadan

The post [Podcast] Guardians of the Tradition: Muslim Women & Islamic Education | Anse Tamara Gray appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

From the conversational intimacy of Chat GPT to the highly customized simulations of popular AI Companions such as Character.ai and Replika, millions now engage in private, sustained dialogues with digital entities programmed to simulate empathy, validation, and a seamless presence. While these platforms offer a digital “safe harbor” for those navigating isolation, we must ask: at what cost does “frictionless” intimacy come to the human soul?

The Innate Vulnerability to the Script

Our susceptibility to digital intimacy is not a modern accident, but a biological reality. In the mid-twentieth century, early experiments in computer science demonstrated that humans possess an innate psychological vulnerability to anthropomorphization – the tendency to project a personality, intentions, and consciousness onto simple computer scripts.¹ We are effectively hardwired to perceive a social presence and a “real” relationship even when we are interacting with nothing more than code.²

While these entities are programmed to simulate validation, they represent a steady erosion of the boundary between a tool and a friend. This push for “easy,” conflict-free relationships clashes with the Islamic value of the “moral search”—the hard work of growing our character and keeping our power to make real choices. Because these digital tools lack a real moral compass, they often fail to navigate the ethical and emotional complexities inherent in crises.³

A Tool for Learning vs. a Mirror for the Ego

Interestingly, the Qur’ān itself uses human-like descriptions of Allah , referring to the “Hand of Allah” [Surah Al-Fath: 48;10] or His “Eyes” [Surah Hud: 11;37]. These aren’t meant to define what God looks like, but are a teaching mercy; they make a “complex abstract morality” feel relatable so we can build a personal relationship with our Creator.

However, AI uses these human-like qualities for a very different purpose: to fake a friendship that has no real moral depth. When we treat a machine as a “companion,” we risk ignoring the sacred uniqueness of the human soul (rūh). While God uses these descriptions to pull us toward a higher authority, AI uses them to keep us comfortable in a simulated relationship that doesn’t ask anything of us.

While the story of Mūsa and Khidr [Surah Al-Kahf: 18:65–82] is a powerful example of mentoring, where the student is challenged by a perspective that shatters his own logic – the AI companion offers no such disruption. This interaction is life-changing precisely because it is difficult and pushes us to grow. In contrast, an AI interaction is “frictionless”. It acts as a mirror of the user’s own nafs (ego), and lacks the “otherness” necessary to develop true empathy. In essence, there is no conflict unless you start it, and the AI never pushes you to be a better person. 

The Atrophy of the Heart

“Real empathy and relationship skills involve learning how to handle disagreement and stand up to social pressure.” [PC: Schiba (unsplash)]

Without this independent pressure, our hearts can become weak. If our “growth” only ever reflects our own desires, we aren’t achieving tazkiyah (purification of the soul), but are instead stuck in a loop of telling ourselves what we want to hear.

Conclusion: Returning to the Community of Souls

In our tradition, well-being is more than just feeling “stress-free.” It is the active work of building God-consciousness (taqwa) through the “refining fire” of a real human community. We have to look past the “safe harbor” of a computer screen and return to the suhba (companionship) that truly matters.

To deepen this reflection within your own circles, consider using the following questions to spark a meaningful conversation about the future of our digital and spiritual lives:

Community Reflection Questions

1. In what ways have we started to prefer “frictionless” digital interactions over the “messy” reality of human community?
2. How can we reintroduce the “Khidr-like” disruption in our circles to ensure we aren’t just echoing our own nafs?
3. What practical boundaries can we set to ensure AI remains a tool for utility rather than a substitute for suhba?

Just as the human-like language of the Qur’ān is a bridge to a higher Truth, technology should only be a bridge to human connection, not a substitute for it. True well-being lies in the pursuit of haqq (truth) alongside other souls—a journey that requires a heart, a spirit, and a presence that no computer code can ever replicate.

Related:

– Faith and Algorithms: From an Ethical Framework for Islamic AI to Practical Application

– AI And The Dajjal Consciousness: Why We Need To Value Authentic Islamic Knowledge In An Age Of Convincing Deception

The post Digital Intimacy: AI Companionship And The Erosion Of Authentic Suhba appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

As Ramadan approaches, it is imperative for Muslims to purify their hearts of malice (ḥiqd). At its least harmful, malice diminishes one’s rank in the sight of Allah and obstructs a believer from performing voluntary acts of goodness. At its most severe, malice becomes a deadly spiritual disease associated with idolatry, unbelief, and even the practices of black magic.

The Messenger of Allah ﷺ instructed us to approach Ramadan with hearts free of malice, as indicated by his statement:

“On the middle night of Sha’ban, Allah Almighty looks down upon His creation, and He forgives the believers, but He abandons the people of grudges and malice to their malice.”¹ In another narration, the Prophet ﷺ said, “Allah looks down at His creation on the middle night of Sha’ban, and He forgives all of His creatures, except for an idolater or one who harbors hostility (mushāḥin).²” Imam al-Ṣan‘ānī explained that ‘one who harbors hostility’ refers to a person who carries malice in the heart.³

In a related narration, the Messenger of Allah ﷺ issued a grave warning:

“If not one of three evil traits is within someone, then Allah will forgive whatever else as He wills: one who dies without associating any partners with Allah, one who does not follow the way of black magic, and one who does not harbor malice against his brother.”⁴

In other words, a Muslim who deliberately nurtures malice against his brothers or sisters places himself in the company of idolaters and those who seek aid from devils. Malice is so heinous that Allah may withhold forgiveness from one who persists in it. As Imam al-Munāwī observed, “Malice is an evil portent. Its condemnation has been related by the Book and the Sunnah countless times.”⁵

Clearly, the Messenger of Allah ﷺ intended for believers to purify themselves of malice by the middle of Sha‘bān—at least two weeks before the arrival of Ramadan. To that end, we must develop a proper understanding of what malice is, how it undermines fasting, and the means by which it is treated, lest our Ramadan be corrupted from within before it even begins.

Malice: The Root of Evil

Imam Ibn Ḥibbān, who compiled the sayings of the Prophet ﷺ in written form, wrote plainly, “Malice is the root of evil. Whoever harbors evil in his heart will have a bitter plant grow, the taste of which is rage and the fruit of which is regret.⁶” There is no acceptable degree of malice, for the scholars have described it as “one of the mothers of sin.⁷” Unlike anger—which is often dangerous but occasionally righteous—malice is never praiseworthy. It is a weed in the garden of the heart and must be uprooted.

Shaykh Ḥasan al-Fayyūmī, one of the Hadith masters of the 9th century Hijrah, defined malice as “to internalize enmity and hatred.⁸” He explained that it is often described as the desire for revenge, and that its true nature emerges when rage cannot be released—because one is unable to retaliate in the moment—causing it to turn inward, fester, and ultimately transform into malice. In this sense, malice is unresolved anger: a smoldering fury that is retained and nurtured until it erupts in acts of vengeance. The desire for revenge and the pleasure of justified rage are beautified by Satan, yet in reality, they are a silent poison that corrupts the believer from within, masking the virtues of character and even sabotaging one’s fasting in Ramadan.

Malice is not a single spiritual disease, either, but rather a constellation of related sins that take root in the heart. Imam Ibn Ḥajar al-Haytamī listed unjust anger, envy, and malice as a single disease among the major sins.⁹ Further examination of the Hadith commentaries in which malice is mentioned shows that scholars consistently associate it with envy (ḥasad), arrogance (kibr), rancor (ghill), malevolence (ghish), hypocrisy (nifāq), rage (ghayẓ), and lingering grudges (ḍaghāʾin).¹⁰ Indeed, it could be said that ‘all roads lead to malice,’ for it is the central node through which Satan’s whisperings assail the heart. Therefore, purifying the heart of malice disarms the Devil of his most potent of weapons.

Fasting, when observed in accordance with both its outward rules and inward realities, is among the most effective means of treating malice in the heart. The relationship between the two is reciprocal: fasting purifies malice, while malice corrupts fasting. For this reason, the Messenger of Allah ﷺ urged believers to rid themselves of malice at least two weeks before the onset of Ramadan.

Fasting: A Treatment for Malice

“When I forgave and held no malice toward anyone, I relieved my soul of the anxiety of enmity.” Imam al-Shafi’i [PC: Christopher Stites (unsplash)]

When we fast, we deliberately train ourselves to refrain from retaliation and revenge. We cultivate patience, forbearance, and dignified self-restraint in the face of insult, in accordance with the Prophet’s ﷺ instruction, “If someone insults him or seeks to fight him, let him say: ‘Indeed, I am fasting.’¹²” This posture stands in direct opposition to the impulse of malice. Thus, one who truly fasts is actively resisting malice, even if unaware of its formal or academic definition.

In this light, the commentators understood what the Prophet ﷺ meant when he said,

“Shall I tell you what will rid the chest of disturbances? Fasting for three days each month.¹³” Imam al-San’ani explained, “Disturbances in the chest, that is, its malevolence, malice, rage, hypocrisy, or intense anger. This [ridding of disturbance] is due to the benefit of fasting.¹⁴” 

The righteous predecessors likewise linked fasting to the treatment of malice, specifically citing the Prophet’s ﷺ description of Ramadan as “the month of patience.¹⁵” Al-Ḥārith al-Hamdānī, may Allah have mercy on him, said, “Fasting the month of patience—Ramadan—and fasting three days each month removes disorders within the chest.” Mujāhid similarly said, “It removes agitation within the chest.” When asked what agitation in the chest is, he replied, “His malevolence.¹⁶” Imam Ibn Baṭṭāl clarified this linguistic connection, explaining, “Agitation in the chest refers to the inflammation of malice and its burning within the heart.¹⁷”

If malice is the node around which Satan gathers his weapons, then patience is the virtue through which Allah dispenses His cures—such as mercy (raḥmah) and sincere goodwill (naṣīḥah).

Healing from the Disease

Malice is a malignant disease at all times of the year, not only during Ramadan, and its cure is not confined to fasting alone. Imam Ibn Qudāmah, citing the great Imam al-Ghazālī, teaches that the general remedy for diseases of the heart is to compel oneself to act in opposition to them.¹⁸ Thus, if a Muslim feels inclined to curse another person, he should instead force himself to pray for that person’s guidance and well-being—however distasteful this may feel to the heart. As Imam al-Ghazālī observed, such remedies are “very bitter to the heart, yet benefit lies in bitter medicine.¹⁹”

Building upon this insight, Shaykh Ṣāliḥ ibn al-Ḥumayd, one of the Imams of al-Masjid al-Ḥarām in Mecca, offers the following counsel:

Whoever is afflicted with the disease of malice must compel himself to behave toward the one he resents in a manner opposite to what his malice demands—replacing censure with praise and arrogance with humility. He should place himself in the other’s position and remember that he himself loves to be treated with gentleness and affection; thus, let him treat others in the same way.²⁰

Such, then, is your mission this Ramadan: to enter the month with a heart purified of malice, and to emerge from it fortified against this disease ever taking root again. Strive to place yourself in the position of those you resent, so that you may regard them with empathy and incline your heart toward forgiveness. If nothing else, keep the words of the Messenger of Allah ﷺ ever before your eyes, “Whoever would love to be delivered from Hellfire and admitted into Paradise, let him meet his end with faith in Allah and the Last Day, and let him treat people as he would love to be treated.²¹”

Success comes from Allah , and Allah knows best.

Related:

• Using Ramadan To Forgive Those Who Have Hurt Us In The Past
• Purification Of The Self: A Journey That Begins From The Outside-In

The post Starting Shaban, Train Yourself To Head Into Ramadan Without Malice appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Bismillah, alhamdulillah, wa salatu wa salamu ‘ala Rasoolillah, wa ‘ala alihi wa sahbihi wa man wala. Amma ba’ad.

Allah ﷻ tells us in the Qur’an about Ramadan in verses that many of us recite each year. They begin with:

“يَا أَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا”
“O you who believe!”

One of the companions (radiAllahu ‘anhu) said that whenever you hear this phrase in the Qur’an, pay close attention. Why? Because what follows is either a command towards something good—khayr—or a prohibition from something evil—sharr.

The Command to Fast

Allah ﷻ says:

“يَا أَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا كُتِبَ عَلَيْكُمُ الصِّيَامُ كَمَا كُتِبَ عَلَى الَّذِينَ مِن قَبْلِكُمْ لَعَلَّكُمْ تَتَّقُونَ”

“O you who believe! Fasting has been prescribed for you as it was prescribed for those before you, so that you may attain taqwa.”

It’s already written, already decreed—fasting is fardh, a compulsory obligation upon us. Just as it was upon those before us.

Fasting Across Faiths

I remember a brother who converted to Islam. During Ramadan, he attended a school gathering with various religious leaders. When he declined the food, someone from another religious group approached him and said:

“I know why you didn’t eat. It’s Ramadan, isn’t it? You’re fasting.”

The brother replied yes. Interestingly, he had converted from that man’s own religion. The man then said something remarkable:

“Fasting is such a noble thing to do. It’s too bad our religion changed it over the years.”

Many religions have remnants of fasting—maybe avoiding certain drinks or foods—but the tradition has been diluted over time.

The “Criticism” of Islam

People often criticize Islam by saying: “You Muslims are still practicing the same Islam from 1400 years ago.”

SubhanAllah. What a beautiful “criticism”! That’s exactly what we want—to follow the Islam practiced by the Prophet ﷺ and his companions.

Ramadan: A Month of Qur’an and Du’a

In the verses about Ramadan, there’s a powerful interjection. Between the verses on fasting, Allah ﷻ says:

“وَإِذَا سَأَلَكَ عِبَادِي عَنِّي فَإِنِّي قَرِيبٌ”
“And when My servant asks you concerning Me—indeed, I am near.”

“أُجِيبُ دَعْوَةَ الدَّاعِ إِذَا دَعَانِ”
“I respond to the du’a of the supplicant when he calls upon Me.”

Allah ﷻ will answer your du’a. Every single time.

The Power of Du’a

You might make du’a for a Cadillac Escalade. And either:

1. You get it.
2. You get something even better.
3. Allah protects you from a harm you didn’t know about.

Even if your du’a isn’t answered in this life, it’s stored for the Hereafter.

The Prophet ﷺ told us: on the Day of Judgment, when people see the stored rewards of unanswered du’as, they will wish that none of their du’as had been answered in the dunya!

The Cost of Du’a and Intention

What does it cost to make du’a? Nothing.

What about making a good intention? Also nothing.

But the reward? If you make a sincere intention to do good, it’s recorded as if you did it. And if you actually do it? You get 10 times the reward.

Imagine the power of simply sitting down and making lofty intentions:

• “I want to build 1,000 masjids.”
• “I want to donate a billion dollars to da’wah.”
• “I want to bring a thousand people back to Allah.”

Even if only 1% of people fulfilled those intentions, our community would be transformed.

Don’t Let Others Deflate Your Intentions

Sometimes when you make big intentions, someone will say, “That’ll never work. Be realistic.”

That kind of mindset deflates ambition. But the Sahaba didn’t think like that. In fact, the Battle of Badr happened during Ramadan. And what did they do? They fasted and fought.

The Prophet ﷺ made du’a:

“O Allah, if this group is destroyed, You will not be worshipped on Earth.”

Ramadan wasn’t just about fasting—it was about striving.

The Spectators and the Participants

Masajid are packed on:

1. The first night of Ramadan.
2. The last 10 nights.

These are the spectators—the ones watching from the sidelines. But the real participants are in the masjid every night. They push through, read Qur’an while others sip tea, and spend time feeding others—not just feeding themselves.

Shahr al-‘It’am vs. Shahr al-Ta’am

Ramadan is Shahr al-‘It’am—the month of feeding others. But many of us have made it Shahr al-Ta’am—the month of eating!

There’s so much pressure, especially on our sisters, to raise food quality. But is that the essence of Ramadan? Going to dinner parties? Eating more than usual?

The Prophet ﷺ performed i’tikaf in Ramadan—not social dinners. In his last Ramadan, he did 20 days of i’tikaf.

No More Excuses

People often say:

• “I can’t go to the masjid daily.”
  But in Ramadan, they show up every night.
• “I can’t pray Qiyam—it’s too hard.”
  Yet during Ramadan, they wake up early for Suhoor and Qiyam.
• “I can’t live without coffee or cigarettes.”
  But in Ramadan? They go cold turkey from dawn to dusk.

The same goes for Qur’an. A person might read nothing all year, but in Ramadan they finish the entire Qur’an.

Training the Soul

Fasting trains the soul to obey Allah. You’re avoiding things normally halal—like food and drink—because Allah said so.

After Ramadan, avoiding haram becomes easier. Ramadan is about developing taqwa through spiritual training.

What Makes a Ramadan Unforgettable?

Try to remember a Ramadan you’ll never forget. What made it unforgettable?

For most people, it’s tied to Taraweeh:

• A special imam.
• A deep focus.
• Consistent attendance.

But what if that imam isn’t there next year? Will you give up? No. You have to be the one who brings the focus—you extract the benefit, not wait for it.

Behind the Scenes: Life of the Imam

Let me take you backstage—what is Ramadan like for the imam?

• After Fajr: Reviewing Qur’an while everyone else sleeps.
• Daytime: Resting intentionally to preserve energy for night prayers.
• Afternoon: More Qur’an review.
• Iftar: Light meal. If he eats too much, he can’t lead Taraweeh. He might literally vomit—no joke.
• Taraweeh: Complete concentration.
• Post-Taraweeh: Brief rest. Then the cycle continues.

Why? Because the Qur’an is his priority.

Be Like the Imam

Whether you’re leading or not, you can live like the imam.

Let Ramadan become a month of:

• Qur’an
• Discipline
• Du’a
• Intention
• Ibadah

You can even aim to memorize 10 ajza’ this Ramadan. It’s not impossible. People have done it.

Final Thoughts

Don’t be the person who shows up at the airport and says, “I haven’t decided where to go yet.”

If you don’t know your destination, you’ll go nowhere.

Make your intention now. Plan your Ramadan today. Prioritize Qur’an and ibadah above all else. And with Allah’s help, you’ll make this Ramadan unforgettable.

Jazakum Allahu Khayran.
May Allah grant us all a truly epic Ramadan. Ameen.

Related:

Ramadan Duaa Series: The Greatest Delight

5 Duas For Ramadan Therapy | Sh Yahya Ibrahim

The post How to Make this Ramadan Epic | Shaykh Muhammad Alshareef appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

I took Visionaire, a course about making “dream duas,” the last time it was ever taught by Shaykh Muhammad al Shareef. While I thought I would continue to learn and deepen my understanding of his teachings for years to come, Allah had different plans. As I revisit the course in preparation for Ramadan this year, here are the basics of what I learned about making dua from the shaykh before his passing. 

It’s Sunnah to Aim for the Highest in Your Duas  

The Prophet’s final words were a dua. He was lying in the lap of his beloved wife, Aisha , and she just used a miswak to clean his teeth. His final words were, “Oh Allah, in the highest companionship,”¹ referring to his desired station in the akhirah. Throug this dua, we can see the final act of the Prophet was making a lofty dua. 

Following in his footsteps, we should also make huge duas that only Allah can fulfill. Dua is not about us, what we can have, or what we deserve; dua is about the One who will answer it. Thus, we raise our standards when it comes to dua without needing to be timid, moderate, shy, or embarrassed to ask Allah or anything we want.

If we can reach the zone of “slightly unrealistic,” we’ve started asking Allah at a scale that is fitting to His Majesty. We’ve reached that zone when we become confused or feel uncomfortable because we can’t figure out how a dua could ever come into volition. For example, someone wants to change their career and needs time and money for further education. Once they start struggling to figure out the logistics of how they would make ends meet without working full-time and balance their family life, that’s where Allah’s Divine capability intercedes. The duas we make should aim to reflect Allah’s infinite ability and not our finite human limitations.  

You Can Make Dua Out of Pain or Pleasure

We can make dua from a state of pain or pleasure, and that Allah listens to both. 

Allah answers the duas of pain and desperate need and says so in the Quran.

“Is He [not best] who responds to the desperate one when he calls upon Him and removes evil and makes you inheritors of the earth? Is there a deity with Allah? Little do you remember.” [Surah An-Naml; 27:62]

The Prophet has also taught us that Allah guarantees to answer anyone who uses the specific dua of Prophet Yunus ²

“And [mention] the man of the fish, when he went off in anger and thought that We would not decree [anything] upon him. And he called out within the darknesses, “There is no deity except You; exalted are You. Indeed, I have been of the wrongdoers.” [Surah Al-Anbiya; 21:87]

The good news is that when we are trapped in the belly of the whale, so to speak, in our own lives, we know our pleas will be answered. However, if times of crisis are the only times when we make dua, we will find ourselves constantly needing to be in a disaster to perform this powerful act of worship. On the flip side, when we’re not in pain, we completely disconnect from dua and remain quiet. That sounds pretty sad and is a huge disadvantage to only make dua from pain. 

However, we can also make dua out of pleasure–ones that make us excited and put a smile on our faces. These duas are the ones we say, “I can’t wait to get into sajdah to make dua for this” because we’re looking forward to having them answered with so much anticipation. These duas can be separated into three broad categories: things we want to experience, things we want to own, and the type of person we would like to become. Being able to connect to the duas that encapsulate our dreams, is not silly or trivial. They build the intimacy in our relationship with Allah because we continue to ask and ask and ask from Him, even during the good times.

Finally, we should look for hacks to create optimistic duas we can feel excited for even during times of sadness and distress. If we are experiencing doom during a calamity, is there a happy future we can look forward to? We should try to make dua for that as a solution to the current crisis we are facing. For example, a woman has just given birth but has severe health complications and has been in the ICU for a week. While her family is distraught, hoping she’ll recover, they probably can’t think of anything else to pray for. Instead of repeating Ya Allah, give her a full recovery, maybe they can look forward to the mom enjoying her baby’s first birthday or high school graduation in full health. Ya Allah, let her bake the baby’s first birthday cake. Ya Allah, let her make a heartfelt speech about her baby’s accomplishments at his graduation dinner.  Doesn’t that sound optimistic, exciting, and so beautiful? Sometimes, it is easier to repeat a dua and stay consistent with asking for it when the dua itself looks on the brighter side of a painful, trying situation.

Give Your Dua an Emotional Charge

“The undercurrent to making dua regularly and being truly committed to it is being moved emotionally in some way.” [PC: Haci Elmas (unsplash)]

Dua is Not Just Spontaneous, it Involves Careful Preparation and Diligent Work

Dua doesn’t have to be a spontaneous string of words that come from fleeting feelings in our hearts at the given time of the dua. Dream duas that we commit to repeating often involve careful preparation. We must introspect on our current lives and the future lives we wish to live. We can try to visualize what those duas would look, smell, feel, sound, and taste like. We can explore all of the possibilities and brainstorm before committing to a select few. We can think about the words that best capture what we imagine. It might take 10 or 20 attempts to find the perfect wording for a dua and even involve input from others. The duas we make don’t have to be carefully guarded and secret; we are welcome to get help for them. 

The work doesn’t stop at coming up with the duas. We can commit to making dua according to a dua habit we devise. (Specifically in Visionaire, the dua habit involves making dream duas multiple times a day/night throughout Ramadan and for 6 months afterwards.) We can also commit to working on making those duas come true with our own efforts, keeping in mind that we seek the worldly means and trust in Allah .³

Grand Duas Help us Grow

As humans, there is no point where we’ve finally “arrived” or “made it” in our lives because things constantly change. We are either growing or dying in everything we do. There is always another mountain to climb; we just have to be the ones to find it. The champion MMA fighter Khabib couldn’t get any higher than being a world champion, right? What he decided to pivot to next was coaching a future world champion. He found another goal to fight for. Our grand “dream duas” benefit us by helping us find, and eventually achieve, our next growth. 

Moreover, dream duas can help motivate us, keep us focused on a clear vision, and hold ourselves accountable. If we find that there are duas we keep coming back to over 5-10 years, we can double down on investing in ourselves in those areas to complete our end of the bargain.⁴ We can do whatever we can in that area and leave the rest to Allah .   

Don’t Feel Guilty about Making Dua for Dunya 

There is nothing wrong with making dua for the dunya. In the Quran, we are taught to say a dua that asks for the best in this dunya.

But among them is he who says, “Our Lord, give us in this world [that which is] good and in the Hereafter [that which is] good and protect us from the punishment of the Fire.” [Surah Al-Baqarah; 2:201]

The key is that we are not exclusively making dua for the dunya. That feeling of guilt is coming from Shaytan, who is trying to prevent us from engaging in a good deed. We shouldn’t be shy about asking for anything from Allah. As a matter of fact, the more we ask, the happier Allah is and the closer we become to Allah through dua. 

Another form of guilt that can deceive us is feeling as if we shouldn’t ask for more if we’re supposed to be grateful for what we already have. However, Allah states that those who are truly grateful will experience an ever-increasing abundance of more to be grateful for [https://quran.com/ibrahim/7.] This dispels the idea that being truly grateful means that a person will never deserve, or desire, more.

I’m Too Scared to Make Dua for the Wrong Thing

Some of us may be faced with dua paralysis when we feel nervous that we are going to ask Allah for something that will turn out to be bad for us in the end. To quell this fear, we should look at the three ways in which Allah answers duas. The first answer to the dua is yes, and exactly what the dua asked for. The second answer is yes, but not now. It will happen later. And the third is yes, but I have something better for you. The protection from making dua for a bad thing is built into the way Allah promises to answer all duas, so make the dua and then leave the rest to Allah . We must have the best opinion of Allah and know that He will always send us good according to His all-encompassing knowledge⁵.  

Dua is a Lifeforce that will Change You

Dua is a lifeforce that reminds us of the miracles that we are. Aren’t humans just “ghosts inside a skeletal meat living on a rock hurtling through space?” Shaykh Muhammad reminds us.⁶ Our lives are a sign of Our Creator, the One who can do what we aren’t even capable of imagining or knowing. Thus, dua isn’t about us; it’s about the all-powerful and infinite God whom we worship. As a matter of fact, even non-Muslims know dua works–they just call it by different names like manifesting, the principle of positive attraction, etc. Even Shaytan knows dua works…and he shows us how intensely he understands that duas are not about the asker, but the Responder. Shaytan makes the craziest dua–to live forever and have the power to tempt and lead mankind astray. That is a scary level of yaqeen we can all learn from.

Dua is the only tool we have to rewrite our destiny. Dua is larger than us. Sometimes we feel like we have to change a lot of things in our lives in order to start or return to making dua. However, we don’t need to change; all we need to do is begin in order for dua to change us. Allah will outstrip our smallest baby steps at the onset of this journey and facilitate our progress as we strive to turn and ask from Him.⁷ So, what are we waiting for now? Get excited about making dua. Godspeed!

Related:

– Constructing Your Personal Arafah Dua List I Sh. Muhammad Alshareef & Sh. Yahya Ibrahim

– From The Chaplain’s Desk: Sayyid Al-Istighfar – The Greatest Dua For Seeking Forgiveness

The post What Shaykh Muhammad Al Shareef Taught Us About Making Dua appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

It is a Sunday night, which means work tomorrow; the beginning of yet another week where I will carry my invisible yet ever-so-heavy grief around with me: finding that smile when greeting others, listening attentively, and communicating, because, as expressed in every language, life must go on. It’s now a little over a year since I lost my father. I have carried on in the best way I can, making sure I only cry behind closed doors. You see, the problem with that is, you are then always expected to carry on – so the invisible weight of grief becomes even heavier on the already constricted heart. 

Understanding Fate

At times, usually when I’m driving, I remind myself of the immense blessing of grieving for my father well into my forties. Allah , Ar-Rahman, blessed me with a kind and loving father for over four decades – a gift many hundreds of people have not been privileged to have. I have seen close friends and family lose loved ones at much younger ages, and they have carried on beautifully. Why then does my heart hurt in this way? Am I an ungrateful soul? I’m not sure I know the answer to this. Can a grateful heart not feel pain?  Isn’t pain also an emotion felt by the living, just as gratitude is? Just because I cry, does it mean I am not accepting of Allah’s beautiful and perfect decree in my life? 

It is the human in us. The very thing that differentiates us from all of Allah’s Creation is our ability to feel continuously. We love and are loved, but this does not mean that we don’t experience sorrow or are exempt from hurting others. We can be grateful, yet have endless tears. This is what makes us humans with hearts: a heart that is more than an organ, a heart that feels. This is what my year-long exclusive membership to the emotional field of grief has taught me. It is one of the many emotional states that will now be with me – until I myself leave this dunya. I can hide it, but I cannot avoid it. I may never find the right words to describe it, but every inch of my beating heart will feel it every single day. 

Grieving As A Believer

“Life has to go on, but how should a heart carrying the badge of grief carry on?” [PC: Duniah Almasri (unsplash)]

Life has to go on, but how should a heart carrying the badge of grief carry on? The Qur’an and the Seerah of Prophet Muhammad are my answer. You would think worship is easier for the one who loses someone dear, but no one talks about how you freeze with worship when grieving. How the heart has a yearning to connect with its Lord, but the mind remains still, lost and struggling to move. It is then that the years of holding the mus’haf close to the heart help revive it for worship. It is then, -knowing that the tears running down Muhammad’s (saw) face after losing his infant child, knowing he continued with his role as the last Prophet of Islam-, that this helps you take steps towards living life. We know about all the losses in his life, from before his birth; from the death of his father, to losing his mother, grandfather and then later his beloved wife and uncle. The seerah weighs heavily with death and grieving, but life, purpose and calling upon Allah continue. It is then that you are reminded of what a real human experience of grief is, because in the example of the Prophet Muhammad , we know is for us the ideal believer and human. 

I don’t think anyone truly learns to live with grief. I think it can be soul-consuming; we either park it somewhere or find a way to carry it with us – but it is always there. At times, the intensity of missing someone, remembering their face, the pain they lived with, the sacrifices they made, all of this and more, can make us feel lost and detached from the every day of life. It is for these moments that having a daily relationship with the Qur’an brings focus back into our day, allowing us to understand how life can feel bearable.

For many years now, I have run a group of daily Qur’an recitation with other sisters. We recite ten verses a day and read the translation of the same ten verses. This has been running for over a decade now, but it was in my year of grief that the group was my anchor and I realised the true blessing of having a daily relationship with the Qur’an. For all the verses I had read and learnt about, they came as a soothing balm in my time of hurt. It allowed me not to be dismissive of feelings but rather gave meaning and purpose to the overwhelming fear that comes with mourning someone we love. It is a form of therapy, but with the Words of Allah – His Speech – how can we not find comfort in it? 

 “Your Lord has not forsaken you” [ Surah Ad-Duha;93:3]

Dua’ – A Gift For The Deceased And For The Living 

After a year-long journey of wiping away tears at night and walking with a forced smile during the day, I have taught myself to make dua’ for my father’s soul in a way I have not done so before. There is an enormous comfort in knowing that when we make dua’ for a departed soul, they benefit from it. 

Abu Huraira narrated that “The Messenger of Allah ﷺ said, ‘Verily, Allah Almighty will raise the status of his righteous servant in paradise, and he will say, ‘O Lord, what is this?’ Allah will say, ‘This is (due to) your child seeking forgiveness for you.’” [Sunan Ibn Majah]

I cannot express in words how much relief this provides me. To know that my good actions can aid my father now allows me to continue; it allows me to want to do good, and it also helps this private experience to feel acceptable. 

Allah , The Most Wise, in His Wisdom permitted us, His servants, to know about this; to know that we can benefit those who have left the dunya. This knowledge that He has shared with us of the unseen is of great benefit for both the living and the dead. 

Abu Huraira reported: The Messenger of Allah (saw) said: “When the human being dies, his deeds end except for three: ongoing charity, beneficial knowledge, or a righteous child who prays for him.” [Sahih Muslim]

It is by knowing this that a grieving believer can refresh and re-intend to carry out good. It is by knowing that I shall make every tear a means of dua’ for my father, but also live such a life that I do both: attempt at being a righteous child of my father’s, but also leave behind children who will also pray for me in this way. In order for this to happen, there is much work. And this is faith. This is what faith is like for us Muslims. It is not something confined to our prayer mats, but has to be present when we do everything else; and this includes when and how we grieve, too. It is only because of faith that I am able to navigate the waves of sorrow and understand its permanent residence in my life. 

Related:

– Unheard, Unspoken: The Secret Side Of Grief

– Sharing Grief: A 10 Point Primer On Condolence

The post Keeping The Faith After Loss: How To Save A Grieving Heart appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

A Companion In The Grave 

This devotion to reading Surah al-Mulk is new, and something I’m doing solely for myself. Some random lady at a masjid wearing a niqab told me that reading it every night will make it a companion in my grave that will save me from being punished.¹ That sounds like a hack I’m willing to believe in and implement.       

The fear of the punishment of Hell is supposed to be a great motivator for Muslims; otherwise, why would it be mentioned in the Quran in horrifying detail? But when I hear about the punishments of Hell, I don’t break a sweat. Sorry…Hell? It’s just too abstract and theoretical to impact me. I’ve got to die first, wait for the entire world to end in an insane earthquake, be resurrected, and go through the Day of Judgment with all of humanity, and then maybe eventually I’ll be thrown into a pit of fire. I’ve got a lot of time before any of that happens.

But what truly scares me is what is real in this world: that’s the punishment in the grave. If I read a few words about life in the grave, I’m paranoid for a whole day and sobered up for a good week. Why? Because I’ve been to a cemetery, prayed a funeral prayer with a dead body in front of the congregation, smelled the sickly scents inside of a morgue, and seen a fresh pile of earth next to an empty grave. To me, that’s real, and I could be in my own grave tomorrow night, for all I know.  

So, I spend the hour break during student government camp at sixteen years old, making sure I deal with my life in the grave adequately. It is a miracle I am there in the first place–but a miracle with conditions. I could go if and only if I promised I would not a) attend the dance, and b) perform in the skit/dance competition between schools. It was something I put on the table outright when negotiating going on a multi-day-and-night co-ed trip. My parents were already not fans of my decision to join the student government, and going to this camp was unofficially mandatory for everyone. I knew I was pushing my luck, but they eventually signed the permission slip and I packed my bags before they could change their minds!

That Night

It’s from out of these very bags that I pull the full-blown carpet janaamaz, my yellow namaz dupatta with the tiny Sindhi mirrors studded all over it, and my mushaf every day of the trip. I admit, it’s an assortment of odd additions to what could easily be a trip brimming with unabashed rule-breaking away from home. There are two things I would guard on this trip, no matter what: praying all five prayers every day, even if they are all late, and reading Surah Al-Mulk before I sleep. These are not things I promised my parents. These are not things they ask me to do or keep track of at home. These are things I do to prepare myself for my grave.

“There are two things I would guard on this trip, no matter what: praying all five prayers every day, even if they are all late, and reading Surah Al-Mulk before I sleep.” [PC: Md Mahdi (unsplash)]t

My friend disturbs me as our free time concludes, saying she’s off to meet the others for dinner if I want to join her now. I haven’t finished, but I’ll wrap it up before bed. The next couple of hours aren’t extraordinary–eating dinner in the cafeteria and attending a leadership seminar of some sort. After that is the big dance, which I am not attending, of course. I run into some minor problems, though: nobody else is going to the dorm, and I’m worried about walking by myself at night on an unfamiliar college campus, and I’ll be passing right by the dance that’s happening in a courtyard along the way. I’m already feeling hesitant about being alone, and I’m very aware of the fact that I’m definitely the black sheep in the student government group. As I try to figure out how to get back to the dorm on my own at the top of the steps towards the festivities, some of the seniors press me to join them. It only takes a couple of entreaties, and my curiosity takes the best of me.

I descend the concrete steps into Dante’s Inferno with the gaggling group of senior girls, a reluctant smile on my face. I’m going to my first high school dance and I know this is the only time I’ll ever get away with it. Maybe prom won’t be too much to ask for in two years…? I pass Mr. Garcia, the teacher in charge of our high school’s group, and see a smirk flit across his face. He knows I’m breaking my moral code because I expressly told him I need to be excused from all dancing activities for religious reasons. I push it from my mind and tell myself to see what this quintessential high school experience is all about. 

The rest of the night goes poorly. Although I’m no stranger to dance parties with my sisters and our friends, I can’t relax here. My shoulders are tense, my throat is tight, and my jaws feel hot the same way they get when I’m lying. I can’t make myself smile, and my limbs jerk in an awkward way when I try to groove along to a beat. I have danced to these very songs so many times, but here, I’m too aware that the air is heavy with teenage sexual angst. I try to ignore it, but I’m too busy being disgusted and feeling guilty for breaking my promise to my parents and going against my personal code. I finally see what grinding looks like in person, and I am horrified; particularly to see some girls I look up to partaking in what looks like a pre-mating ritual. I get what all the hullabaloo about banning it from school dances is about now. 

I think of another tactic: I take in the oppressive air and use the energy to my strategic advantage towards a cute, unassuming white guy from my school that I’ve been nursing a crush on for a while. This is my chance to make a tiny move–nothing too extreme. I’m trying to muster up the courage, but I can’t breathe enough to propel myself into action. Is the air as thick as slime, or is it just me? I look around and want to close my eyes to everything I see. 

All I wanted to do was have a good time! I scream at myself in my mind. Grudgingly, I know it’s not going to happen here. I’m not like the rest of them, even the other Pakistani girl who is also Muslim and has been empathetically nudging me towards all the haram things that the others do. I can’t be like the rest of them, even if I want to be. 

I decide to leave before I can witness more of my classmates’ t strange escapades, not sparing a care about getting back to the dorm on my own. I nudge my roommate and tell her I’m not feeling well and need to bounce. Luckily for me, she has a headache and wants to knock out. We walk towards the steps, and I make sure to wave down my teacher and let him know we’re leaving. I hope he chokes on the fact that I only spent half an hour here and had a horrible time. 

Not Tonight, My Friend

Twenty years later, I admit that I have thought about that night often, particularly when I feel tired and would rather sleep than read Surah Al-Mulk. They say that the Quran can be a companion, and when I hope it can be a companion in my grave, I remember wearing the dupatta while reading the surah and hearing the ocean. I remember walking down the steps to the dance into the muggy air pregnant with teenage titillation. I remember feeling like I was moving through sludge even though I thought I could indulge in a secret night away. I wonder how I could do such opposing things in the same night. I feel the surah wrapping its mustard yellow wings around me in an embrace. Holding me, it whispers–not tonight, my friend. I’ve got you. Somehow, it was my wingman back then, saving me that one night and thus probably on many others.  I remember that night when I can hardly look at myself in the mirror from the shame and guilt from my sins of the day and feel that I am not worthy of reading Surah Al-Mulk. But we’ve experienced so much together since that night at UCSB. I owe it so much and I know I can’t leave it hanging now.  Once I’m six-feet under, I I hope it returns the favor and clings onto me.

Related:

– Lessons From Surah Al-Mulk: How The Bees And Birds Teach Us About Tawakkul

– Surah Al Waqiah Paid My Tuition Twice

The post Why I Can’t Leave Surah Al-Mulk Hanging Every Night appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

In today’s increasingly individualized society and entitlement-driven culture -shaped heavily by Western ideals of autonomy and self-fulfillment- a worrying trend has emerged: many young people have come to see their parents not as figures of reverence, guidance, and gratitude, but as service providers; even well into adulthood. This shift is particularly visible in children who, while benefitting from years of care and sacrifice, respond with entitlement or neglect. Some even say, “We didn’t ask to be born, it was your choice!” This perspective, although widely normalized in modern Western discourse, is deeply misaligned with the values and principles of Islam.

The Islamic Understanding of Parent-Child Relationships

Life as a Divine Trust

Islam offers a profoundly different understanding of the parent-child relationship; one rooted in divine purpose, obedience, and honor. Contrary to the notion that parents choose to bring children into the world, Islam teaches that it is Allah Who creates life and chooses its circumstances. He says in the Qur’an:

“To Allah belongs the dominion of the heavens and the earth. He creates what He wills. He gives to whom He wills female [children], and He gives to whom He wills males.”
[Surah Ash-Shuraa 42;49]

The arrival of a child is not merely a human decision—it is a manifestation of Allah’s Will. The argument “we didn’t ask to be born” overlooks this spiritual truth. Children are not random by-products of human desire but are sacred trusts (amanah) from Allah , and parents are the vessels through which Allah’s Decree is fulfilled.

Obedience to Parents as a Divine Command

In Islam, obedience to parents is not a personal choice—it is a divine commandment. The Qur’an establishes this in clear terms:

“And your Lord has decreed that you not worship except Him, and to parents, [show] excellent treatment. Whether one or both of them reach old age [while] with you, say not to them [even] ‘uff’ and do not repel them but speak to them a noble word.”
[Surah Al-Isra; 17:23]

The prohibition of even uttering “uff”—a mild sign of frustration—shows how seriously Islam regards the dignity of parents. Islam does not tie this obedience to whether parents are perfect, modern, educated, or emotionally ideal. It is a matter of obedience to Allah and a sign of piety.

The Prophet ﷺ also listed disobedience to parents among the gravest major sins, placing it alongside shirk (associating partners with Allah ):


“Shall I not inform you of the biggest of the major sins?” They said, “Yes, O Allah’s Messenger!” He said, “To associate others with Allah and to be undutiful to one’s parents…”
[Bukhari and Muslim]

When Parents Are Imperfect

And what about those who say, “My parents don’t understand me. They’re too harsh. They weren’t perfect.” To such people, Allah presents us with one of the most profound and emotionally rich stories in the Qur’an: the story of Prophet Ibrahim and his father, Azar.

Azar wasn’t just a difficult parent. He was an open enemy of the truth. He built idols with his own hands and forced his son to conform to the same false religion. He didn’t just disagree with Ibrahim’s faith—he threatened him. He rejected his dawah and even said:

“If you do not desist, I will surely stone you. So leave me alone for a prolonged time.” [Surah Maryam; 19:46]

Why is this story in the Qur’an? It’s not just for bedtime storytelling.

Every word in the Qur’an is deliberate. There are no filler verses. So, when Allah preserved this conversation between father and son for over 1,400 years, it’s not for entertainment—it’s for transformation.

Have we taken the time to reflect? His example demonstrates that Islam does not permit disrespect, rebellion, or cruelty toward parents—even when obedience cannot be maintained. In most family situations, parental shortcomings do not resemble Azar’s extremity. The Qur’an instructs believers to continue accompanying their parents with kindness and patience, even amid disagreement, so long as no sin is involved:

“But if they endeavor to make you associate with Me that of which you have no knowledge, do not obey them but accompany them in [this] world with appropriate kindness and follow the way of those who turn back to Me [in repentance]. Then to Me will be your return, and I will inform you about what you used to do.” [Surah Luqman; 31:15]

Within a Muslim family ethics framework, coping with parental conflict involves maintaining adab, engaging in respectful dialogue, practicing sabr, and making duʿāʾ for guidance and reconciliation. 

Proactive Obedience as a Virtue

Moreover, the Prophet ﷺ described the most virtuous child as the one who serves and cares for their parents before being asked.

In one narration, three men were trapped in a cave and sought Allah’s help by mentioning their most sincere deeds. One man said he never fed his own children before feeding his elderly parents, even after a long day of work. His devotion was accepted, and the rock shifted. [Sahih al-Bukhari, no. 3465]. This powerful story illustrates the blessings that come from proactive, sincere obedience and care.

The Impact of Individualism on Parent-Child Relationships

“Many young adults are quick to point out their parents’ flaws but slow to recognize their sacrifices.” [PC: Nadine E (unsplash)]

Unfortunately, the culture of individualism has produced a generation that is often emotionally disconnected from its roots. Modern individualism prioritizes personal autonomy, self-fulfillment, and independence, often framing family obligations as burdens rather than responsibilities. Within this framework, relational sacrifices—especially those made quietly by parents—can become invisible or undervalued. As a result, many young adults are quick to point out their parents’ flaws but slow to recognize their sacrifices. Islam teaches that gratitude to parents is second only to gratitude to Allah :

“And We have enjoined upon man [care] for his parents. His mother carried him, [increasing her] in weakness upon weakness, and his weaning is in two years. Be grateful to Me and to your parents; to Me is the [final] destination.” [Surah Luqman; 31:14]

The entitlement culture has produced children who often consume more than they contribute, and who question the very people who sacrificed the most for them. But Islam calls us back to a sacred standard: a life of duty, compassion, and humility.

Restoring Balance Through Duty, Compassion, and Humility

Islam does not leave the parent-child relationship to culture or personal judgment—it elevates it to the level of ‘ibadah (worship). Obedience to parents is not optional; it is a spiritual duty. But this obedience is not blind servitude—it is a meaningful act that reflects humility before Allah and gratitude toward those through whom He gave us life. Just as prayer and fasting are acts of worship that earn reward, so too is every moment of kindness shown to one’s parents—even in the moments when it feels difficult.

Self-Reflection Questions for Youth

Ask yourself today:
Do I rush to help my parents the way I rush to answer my phone?
Do I speak to them with the same softness I use with strangers?
Do I honour them in private, or only when others are watching?

If we want to restore the balance eroded by individualism, we must revive these teachings—not just in books or lectures, but in our homes, hearts, and everyday behavior. A generation raised with these values will not only honor their parents—they will carry the legacy of Islam with dignity and grace.

And if you’re a young adult reading this—ask yourself: Am I writing a story that Allah will be proud of? Or one I’ll regret on the Day of Judgment? The answer lies not in grand gestures, but in the quiet, consistent choices we make every day.

Practical Ways to Honor Parents

Restoring balance begins with small, consistent actions. Here are a few ways youth can bring these teachings to life:

 – Begin by checking in on your parents daily, not out of obligation but out of love. Ask them about their day, seek their advice, and make them feel seen and valued.

 – Express gratitude openly—a simple “JazakAllahu khayran” or “thank you” softens hearts more than silence.

 – Offer acts of service without waiting to be asked—make them tea, help with chores, drive them to appointments, or assist with technology. These seemingly small gestures are weighty in Allah’s Sight.

 – Pray for them regularly, even when they are not present, for the Prophet ﷺ taught that a child’s dua for their parents continues to benefit them after death.

 – When disagreements arise, choose patience over pride; lower your voice, listen before responding, and remember that respect is a form of ibadah.

 – And finally, educate yourself and your peers—revive conversations in your circles about honoring parents, so that this forgotten sunnah becomes part of our generation’s identity once again.

The Urgency of Acting Now – Healing Families and the Ummah

One day, the voices of our parents will become memories—their footsteps in the hallway will fade, their advice will no longer be heard, and we will wish for just one more chance to serve them. Before that day arrives, let us honor them while they are still within reach. Let every message we send, every errand we run, and every word we speak be a sadaqah in disguise. The world tells us to chase independence; Islam calls us to embrace interdependence—with Allah , with our parents, and with our ummah.

If we, as the youth of today, can realign our hearts with these timeless teachings, we will not only heal our families but also mend the fractures of our ummah—one act of kindness, one softened heart, and one obedient prayer at a time.

Related:

– Podcast: The Rights of Parents vs Parental Oppression | Sh Isa Parada

– Family Relationships in Surah Maryam: IOK Ramadan Reflections Series #16

The post Restoring Balance In An Individualized Society: The Islamic Perspective on Parent-Child Relationships appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Going Out For Coffee

On the evening of Sunday, December 14, Bondi Beach was crowded in the way only a summer Sunday allows. Thousands of people filled the promenade and shoreline, lingering at the end of the weekend. Among them were hundreds gathered for Chanukah by the Sea, a public celebration marking the beginning of the eight-day Hanukkah festival, held in a small park just off the beachfront.

Ahmed al-Ahmed was there for a far more ordinary reason. He had gone to Bondi with a friend for coffee. A simple plan. An unremarkable outing. Ahmed was not attending the celebration, not looking for spectacle, and certainly not expecting violence.

Ahmed is 43 years old, a Syrian immigrant from the town of Idlib, who arrived in Australia in 2006. Over nearly two decades, he built a life through patience and work. He became an Australian citizen, opened and ran a small convenience and tobacco store, married, and became the father of two young daughters, aged three and six. His parents, long separated from him by war and displacement, had only recently been able to reunite with him in Sydney.

Shots Across The Sand

Shortly after 6:45 pm, the ordinary rhythm of Bondi Beach shattered.

Witnesses reported that two gunmen opened fire from an elevated footbridge leading toward the beach. Shots echoed across the sand. Video footage later showed people in swimwear sprinting for cover, scattering across open ground with nowhere to hide. Panic spread instantly. Parents grabbed children. Strangers dropped flat. The attack continued for several minutes before police were able to intervene.

Ahmed and his friend arrived to scenes of chaos.

Speaking to Australia’s ABC, Ahmed’s father, Mohamed Fateh al-Ahmed, said his son was shocked by what he saw when they reached the area. Armed men firing into crowds. People lying on the ground. Blood visible on the pavement.

“Their lives were in danger,” his father said. “He noticed one of the armed men at a distance.”

According to the family, Ahmed saw people lying wounded on the ground, some bleeding heavily. At that point, calculation gave way to instinct, and perhaps to training as well, as reports say that Ahmed had been a policeman in his native Syria.

“When he saw people laying on the ground and the blood everywhere,” his father said, “immediately his conscience and his soul compelled him to pounce on one of the terrorists and rid him of his weapon.”

Making A Move

A screenshot shows Ahmed Al-Ahmed wrestling with one of the shooters.

At some point during the attack, Ahmed began sneaking up on one of the gunmen. Reports say that the attacker had momentarily exhausted his ammunition, but I have watched the video several times and there was no indication of that. Rather, it appears that Ahmed crept up between two parked cars, and – as the shooter was still actively firing – charged him from the side.

He charged the attacker unarmed, and wrestled with him for control of the rifle. The shooter fell to the ground, leaving Ahmed in control of the weapon. Again, reports say that during the struggle, Ahmed was shot several times in the shoulder, but I do not see that in the video. Rather, it appears that he was unharmed during the struggle, which leads me to believe that he was then shot by the other attacker, who was still firing from atop a bridge nearby. But this is speculation.

In any case he was shot in the hand and four to five times in the shoulder, with some of the bullets still lodged inside his body, according to his parents. He was rushed to hospital and underwent emergency surgery.

In the hours that followed, family members described the toll the injuries had taken. Jozay, a cousin of Ahmed, said that he was recovering from his first surgery and had two more operations still to come. “He took a lot of medication, he can’t speak well,” Jozay said after leaving the hospital on Monday evening.

Couldn’t Bear To See People Dying

Another cousin, Mustafa al-Asaad, told the Al Araby television network that Ahmed’s intervention was not driven by anger or impulse, but by something deeper.

“When he saw people dying and their families being shot, he couldn’t bear to see people dying,” Mustafa said.

“It was a humanitarian act, more than anything else. It was a matter of conscience. He’s very proud that he saved even one life.”

Mustafa recalled Ahmed explaining the moment in simple terms.

“When he saw this scene, people dying of gunfire, he told me, ‘I couldn’t bear this. God gave me strength. I believe I’m going to stop this person killing people.’”

The attack ended. Many lives were lost, but – without a doubt – many lives were also saved by Ahmed’s heroic actions.

What Would You Do?

It’s easy to call someone a hero after the fact. It is much harder to grasp what such a moment actually demands. Which raises a question that should unsettle us.

What would you do in that situation? What would I do?

I am a trained martial artist. I have spent years in classes gaming out scenarios exactly like this. How to tackle an active shooter, how to control the weapon, how to disable the shooter and create distance. But class training is one thing. Seeing it happen in real life, with the noise of the shots, the screams, the chaos, is something else altogether. I like to believe I would act courageously. I like to believe training and moral conviction would carry me forward. But only Allah knows.

Because this is the reality: if the shooter had spotted Ahmed’s approach – if he’d caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye – and turned – Ahmed would be dead. He’d be shot dead in the parking lot, leaving his two young daughters without a father. And he undoubtedly knew that. Think about that.

None of us truly knows what choice we will make until we are confronted, face to face, with that level of evil. Training, faith and strength of character all help. But certainty only arrives when fear, instinct, and conscience collide in real time.

Ahmed al-Ahmed does not have to imagine.

When asked about his actions, he expressed no regret. He did not speak of bravery or heroism. I cannot speak to his specific religious convictions, as the reports do not mention this. He might be a Sunni, Shiah or Alawi. He might be practicing or not. But he bears the name of our beloved Prophet (s), and he gave the credit for his actions – as any believer would – to Allah, saying that God granted him courage.

Ahmed’s father emphasized that his son’s decision was not shaped by identity or affiliation.

“When he did what he did, he wasn’t thinking about the background of the people he’s saving, the people dying in the street,” Mohamed Fateh al-Ahmed said. “He doesn’t discriminate between one nationality and another. Especially here in Australia, there’s no difference between one citizen and another.”

A Grim Irony

There is, however, a grim irony that cannot be ignored.

Authorities later confirmed that the attackers were also Muslim immigrants. This fact, widely reported, inevitably stirred anxiety within Muslim communities already accustomed to collective suspicion.

The man that Ahmed wrested with and disarmed was named Sajid Akram. He was 50 years old, originally from India. According to reports, he and his son were inspired by ISIS ideology.

Here, on the same beach, in the same violent moment, stood two radically different representations of what it means to invoke Islam.

On one side, a profound betrayal of faith. A reduction of religion to grievance, rage, and indiscriminate murder. On the other, the apex of faithful action, a man who ran toward gunfire to protect strangers, including members of another religious community, without hesitation and without calculation.

Have we, in recent memory, seen a clearer reminder that no group is monolithic? That no religion, race, or nation can be reduced to its worst representatives? That Islam can be invoked as a pretext for horror, or lived as a shield for others?

Whoever Saves One Life

Chris Mims, New South Wales premier, visits with Ahmed Al-Ahmed.

In the days that followed, public gratitude poured in. Political leaders visited Ahmed in hospital. Fundraisers raised extraordinary sums (over a million dollars, it is said) to support his recovery and his family. Officials credited his intervention with saving lives.

For Muslims, the value of a life saved is not dependent on that person’s faith, character, nationality or identity, for Allah tells us in the Quran:

“Whoever saves one life, it is as if he has saved the lives of all humankind.” (Quran 5:32)

This is especially true when you save a stranger. By saving the life of someone you don’t know, you have symbolically saved the life of anyone and everyone. Ahmed Al-Ahmed, therefore, saved my life and yours, as well as that of everyone else in the world.

Let’s Choose Our Own Heroes

This is an age when Western entertainment culture is relentless in shaping our imagination of heroism, trying to force its own imprint onto our brains. The hero is a mythical Norse god wielding lightning, a billionaire playboy in an iron suit, a Superman wrapped in red, white, and blue. These figures are entertaining, but they are not moral templates.

We already have heroes.

At the dawn of Islam, we have the sahabah. Hamzah ibn AbdulMuttalib at Badr. Nusaibah bint Kaab, Musab bin Umair and Talhah bin Ubaidullah at Uhud. Salman al-Farisi, Ali ibn Abi Talib, and Hudhaifah ibn al-Yaman at Khandaq. And any others. Men and women whose courage was inseparable from humility, restraint, and devotion to Allah and His Messenger.

In the modern age, we must choose our heroes as well. Not from movie screens or marketing campaigns, but from real human beings who act rightly when it costs them dearly.

Ahmed al-Ahmed is one such hero. No, I’m not comparing him to the sahabah. But we do not live in the time of the sahabah. We live in an age of runaway technology, overhwelming mass media, and widespread oppression and corruption. We must laud our heroes when they appear.

Ahmed is not a hero because he is flawless. Again, I know little about his personal relgious convictions. He is a hero because, in one decisive moment, he chose other poeople’s lives over his own safety, conscience over calculation, and mercy over self-preservation.

Sources

• • ABC News (Australia)
    Interviews with Ahmed al-Ahmed’s father Mohamed Fateh al-Ahmed regarding the events at Bondi Beach, Ahmed’s injuries, and his motivations.

  • News.com.au
    Reporting on Ahmed al-Ahmed’s background, injuries, surgeries, and public response following the Bondi Beach attack.

  • NSW Police Force Media Releases
    Official statements on the Bondi Beach public place shooting, timeline of events, and police intervention.

  • The Guardian (Australia)
    Coverage of the Bondi Beach attack, investigation details, and confirmation of the attackers’ identities.

  • SBS News (Australia)
    Reporting on Ahmed al-Ahmed’s medical condition, recovery, and statements attributed to family members.

  • Al Araby Television Network
    Interview with Ahmed’s cousin Mustafa al-Asaad describing Ahmed’s actions as a humanitarian act and a matter of conscience.

Related:

A War Hero Comes For Taraweeh – The Remarkable Story Of Hajjah Hasna al-Hariri

Do You Know These Heroes of Eid?

The post Ahmed Al-Ahmed And The Meaning Of Courage appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Government shutdowns, while uncommon, have occurred numerous times in the past.¹ However, not only was this most recent 43-day shutdown the longest in American history, but it was also the first time the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) was suspended over a lack of allotted funding. SNAP benefits provide monthly food assistance to roughly 42 million Americans, or 12% of the population; 70% of SNAP recipients are children, seniors, and people with disabilities.² What people expected, and feared, became true once the shutdown dragged into November: people would not be receiving their SNAP benefits, it was unclear when (or if) they would receive them again, and they were now left scrambling to find food assistance elsewhere. Some states pledged to cover people’s SNAP benefits for the month of November, but this was only meant to be a temporary, partial fix.

With the end of the government shutdown, SNAP benefits have been restored, and SNAP will be funded through the end of the fiscal year in September 2026.³ While the immediate crisis has subsided, a greater, longer-term crisis still looms. Food continues to grow more expensive, while wages remain stagnant. The One Big Beautiful Bill Act that was signed into law in July 2025 will cut the SNAP budget by 20% over the next ten years, in addition to placing stricter work requirements on recipients.⁴ A vicious cycle is thus created where more people will end up needing help affording food, while access to help is made increasingly difficult for fewer benefits. Compounding this crisis, and one of the primary reasons for the shutdown, is the astronomical cost of healthcare in this country that regularly forces people to choose between seeking medical care and paying for other basic living expenses. 

I do not want to mince words or downplay this plight: I believe this is a moral failing of our government leaders. In a nation as wealthy and full of resources as the United States, there is no acceptable justification for why food insecurity is so widespread. Our government spends billions of our tax dollars each year on military operations around the world that cause, at minimum, societal and economic destabilization, and, at worst, genocide. Corporations and the richest Americans get tax breaks, while millions more must scrape by on their minimum wage paycheck or meager social security/disability payments. The scale of injustice being seen here is massive and dire, and it should disturb anyone who is paying attention and has a conscience.

As I spend time reflecting on this as a Muslim, I remember the many times in the Qur’an where Allah has urged the believers to feed those who are hungry. The two passages that have always stood out to me most regarding our duties to give come from Surah al-Balad and Surah al-Ma’un:

“If only they had attempted the challenging path! And what will make you realize what the challenging path is? It is to free a slave, or to give food in times of famine to an orphaned relative or to a poor person in distress, and–above all–to be one of those who have faith and urge each other to perseverance and urge each other to compassion. These are the people of the right.” [Surah al-Balad, 90; 10-18]

“Have you seen the one who denies the (final) Judgment? That is the one who repulses the orphan, and does not encourage the feeding of the poor. So woe to those (hypocrites) who pray yet are unmindful of their prayers; those who (only) show off, and refuse to give (even the simplest) aid.” [Surah al-Ma’un, 107; 1-7]

The message Allah shows us here is very clear: giving food to needy people is morally good, even in times of difficulty, and denying food to needy people is morally wrong. The verses of al-Ma’un in particular illustrate the hypocrisy of those who may follow the “letter of the law” (through outward acts of piety like salah) but disregard the “spirit of the law” by ignoring Allah’s Command to care for those who are vulnerable. Throughout the Qur’an, Allah frequently pairs “belief” together with “righteous deeds,” illustrating that our deen requires both from us in order to have sound faith. With these imperatives, it is our Islamic duty to address these issues to the best of our ability.

There is an oft-cited hadith from Sahih Muslim where our Prophet ﷺ says,

“Whoever among you sees an evil action, let him change it with his hand [by taking action]; if he cannot, then with his tongue [by speaking out]; and if he cannot, then with his heart [by at least hating it and believing that it is wrong], and that is the weakest of faith.”

This is frequently used as a rallying call to action amongst Muslims, especially in situations where people may feel that there is little that they personally can do due to a lack of power or physical distance (for example, the genocides in Gaza and Sudan). In the case of the American hunger crisis, however, we are in a position to counter these evil actions (purposeful, artificial shortages of food resources) with our hands, tongues, and hearts. 

 – With our hands: The most direct way we can help our neighbors who are hungry is, unsurprisingly, to provide them with food or money for food. There are many ways this can be done, and some ways may be more beneficial to certain people than others. For example, in my local Buy Nothing group on Facebook, people regularly request and offer groceries and meals. Because this group has a large user base, requests for food are generally met quickly and abundantly.

“The most direct way we can help our neighbors who are hungry is, unsurprisingly, to provide them with food or money for food.” [PC: Nico Smit (unsplash)]

Alhamdulillah, Muslims have already been demonstrating a commitment to serve our neighbors. At the small Islamic school my daughter attends, one parent’s suggestion to provide food assistance to students and their families led to a fundraising campaign that has collected $1,300 for groceries. In a now viral TikTok series, a woman named Nikalie Monroe filmed herself cold-calling dozens of houses of worship requesting baby formula. She did not need the formula, but she wanted to conduct a “social experiment” to see how receptive religious institutions would be to people directly asking for assistance. Most of the churches she contacted either denied the request or directed her to different organizations, but a few places, including The Islamic Center of Charlotte in Charlotte, North Carolina, offered to help her get formula with no questions asked. Touched by this masjid’s generosity and quick response, donations have been pouring in, which the masjid says it will use to fund a food drive. These are beautiful examples of Allah’s Words being put into action, and illustrate how one kind act can birth even more goodness. Allah says in Surah al-Baqarah: “The example of those who spend their wealth in the cause of Allah is that of a grain that sprouts into seven ears, each bearing one hundred grains. And Allah multiplies to whoever He wills. For Allah is All-Bountiful, All-Knowing.” [2;261]

 – With our tongues: This is where our recent experience with Palestine/Sudan activism will be useful. Get involved with advocacy groups that work towards policies that fight hunger and systemically address poverty and the massive income inequality in the United States. This can be on a national, state, or local level. For example, you could start or join a campaign for your local school district to provide universal free breakfast and lunch for its students, so no child will ever have to worry about skipping meals at school or having lunch debt.

Write and deliver a khutbah or bayan/khatirah about what the Qur’an and sunnah say about helping our hungry neighbors. If you’re a parent, talk with your children about hunger and how widespread it is, as well as what Allah has asked us to do to address it.

 – With our hearts: Du’a and taqwa are our greatest tools. Make heartfelt du’a asking Ar-Razzaq, the Provider, to bless us all with His Rizq (provisions). Ask Allah to help us in helping others, and that we may be agents for what is right. Remember how Allah has warned us against oppressing others, and ask Him to keep us from being among the wrongdoers and those who cause harm.

Pray that the hearts of those in power are opened and guided to the Truth, and that they use their power to enjoin goodness and justice for people, especially those who are vulnerable and marginalized. 

We may not be able to solve problems like hunger alone, but inshaAllah each step we take to help our neighbors means one less person goes to bed hungry. May Allah bless and help those who are struggling in body, mind, and spirit, and guide us to always do what is pleasing to Him. Ameen!

Related:

– When The Powerful Eat Full And The Poor Go Hungry

– The Architecture of Withholding: When Charity Becomes Control

The post The Hunger Crisis: Reflections Of An American Muslim appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.