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.

What does every new Imam need to know about being an imam? What do you do if you’re in a small community with minimal resources? How do you manage joining a new community, learning the ropes, and not biting off more than you can chew? In this episode, Sh. Mohammad Elshinawy shares his advice for new imams, community building, and reflections on his own imam experience.

Shaykh Mohammad Elshinawy is a Graduate of English Literature at Brooklyn College, NYC. He studied at College of Hadith at the Islamic University of Madinah and is a graduate and instructor of Islamic Studies at Mishkah University. He has translated major works for the International Islamic Publishing House, the Assembly of Muslim Jurists of America, and Mishkah University.

Related:

Don’t Take For Granted Your Community Imam I Sh. Furhan Zubairi

The Rise of the Scholarly Gig Economy and Fall of Community Development

The post [Podcast] The Parts of Being an Imam They Don’t Warn You About | Sh Mohammad Elshinawy appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

This study proved that – unsurprisingly – sandwich generation carers are at a greater risk of mental health struggles and need support. 

Equity In Eldercare

In my youthful naivete, I strongly believed that when it came to looking after one’s ageing parents, it had to be distributed equally according to the number of children. By my logic, if an elderly couple had four children, then all four of them had to take turns to look after their parents. Only children have the responsibility of caring for both ageing parents with no siblings to lean on, except for a loving and supportive spouse, if they have one.

Many decades later, I have come to realize that no matter how many children there are in a family, except in rare circumstances, the bulk of eldercare usually falls on one adult child and his/her spouse and children. One of my friends, a Malaysian cardiologist who encounters many ageing elders, echoes seeing the same thing in her clinical practice across both Muslim and non-Muslim families.

The rise of individualism in today’s world is probably a driving force in elder neglect. When families lived closer together, the norm was for all children to help in the care of their elders. With the rise in economic migration and diaspora Muslim communities, the elders who did not move with their children are often left behind in their old age. 

Cultural Expectations vs Islamic Obligations

There seem to be many cultural “myths” when it comes to caring for elders. In Malaysia, where I live, the responsibility for eldercare often lies with adult daughters, even if families have sons. This may be due to the strongly matriarchal society and women often being the main income earners. In other parts of the world, the emphasis is on adult sons looking after their parents, even if they also have daughters. Desis have an expectation of the eldest son caring for his parents, when the actual work gets shifted onto his wife. 

The reality is this: Islamically, eldercare responsibility lies on all adult children, regardless of gender. Caring for one’s parents is a fardul ‘ain (individual responsibility), and not a fardul kifayah (communal responsibility). One child caring for an ageing parent does not lift the responsibility from other children.

An Unfortunate Bias

“The reality is this: Islamically, eldercare responsibility lies on all adult children, regardless of gender.” [PC: Raymond Yeung (unsplash)]

Caring for her in-laws is not her Islamic obligation – her obligation is to care for her husband, children, and her parents! Undoubtedly, she will be rewarded for caring for her in-laws, but once again, that is not her obligation. A daughter-in-law caring for her husband’s parents is a recommended act which is not lost on Allah . 

However, it’s important to realize a burnt-out daughter-in-law will be less likely to fulfil her actual obligations: her husband and children. May Allah guide and have mercy on all of our families, and help us all do better.

No Easy Answers, But Everything Is From Allah

When it comes to equitable eldercare, there is no one-size-fits-all solution for families who are spread throughout the globe. Even with all adult children in the same city, eldercare is probably not distributed equitably either. Someone will have to sacrifice something for an unknown period of time.

In the best case scenario, all adult siblings step up in their best ways possible, put their differences aside, and work as a team to care for their ageing parents. Sadly, this is not always the case. When eldercare is left to only one adult child and his/her household, it can be so frustrating to ask for help, only to have minimal response from other siblings. 

What helps is always turning to Allah and making choices that align with His Pleasure. If you are bearing the load of eldercare, please know that this is a sign of Allah’s Love and honouring of you, through service to your elderly parents. Their dua’s for you will bring about tremendous goodness to you – even if it may not be immediately apparent.

Tips For Making Eldercare Easier

If you are the main carer for both elders and young children, here are some tips that may help:

1) Build a strong support network: Nobody can look after elders or children on their own without burning out, let alone when looking after both age groups! Please don’t wait until you are on the brink of a mental breakdown, but rather proactively have a conversation with family and/or loved ones, and discuss how everyone can help support you in caring for the elders under your care.

2) Build in breaks: Try your best to build in regular daily, weekly, monthly and yearly ‘pressure release valves’ – for lack of a better term. When family comes to visit and spends quality time with your ageing elder, use that opportunity to rest and recharge.

3) Elder vacations: Before elders struggle with more severe health issues, arrange for them to go for a holiday in another adult child’s household. Even if they might be reluctant to leave their comfort zone, this break will give a much-needed respite for the main household of carers.

4) Acceptance: Sadly, as health issues often worsen in old age, there will come a time when ageing parents will no longer be able to travel. This is the time for them to be visited and cared for, especially by adult children who live far away or are absent for other reasons.

Imam Ahmad narrated that Usamah bin Sharik (may Allah be pleased with him) said, “I was with the Prophet Muhammad (Alla when the Bedouins came to him and said, ‘O Messenger of Allah, should we seek medicine?’ He said, ‘Yes, O slaves of Allah, seek medicine, for Allah has not created a disease except that He has created its cure, except for one illness.’ They said, ‘And what is that?’ He said, ‘old age.’” [Ahmad, Tirmidhi, Abu Dawud]

Conclusion

Marriage is a lifelong commitment that not only includes the care and raising of children, but also the care and burying of elders. When families were closer together and Islamic values were more prevalent, discussions around eldercare weren’t even necessary among siblings. Elders were cherished and cared for by their adult children and grandchildren until the end of their long and blessed lives.

Now, there needs to be a revival of more intentional conversations around eldercare, especially with the rise of individualism and the cultural bias that expects only eldest/youngest sons to do the heavy lifting. Every single adult child has a role to play, even if it’s inconvenient. The door of service to our elders is a golden opportunity that only lasts for as long as they are with us in this dunya. Once they pass away, that door closes, never to be opened again.

Related:

– Avoid Financial Elder Abuse Through Islamic Principles

– Restoring Balance In An Individualized Society: The Islamic Perspective on Parent-Child Relationships

The post The Sandwich Carers: Navigating The Islamic Obligation Of Eldercare 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.

In Islamic tradition, the Dajjal is described not only as a figure of physical trial, but as a master of deception, illusion, and confusion, someone who blurs the line between truth and falsehood until people no longer know what to trust. Whistleblowers are dismissed as conspiracy theorists, seemingly Islamic videos microdose incorrect information to slowly make people question their faith, and scholars are categorized as extremists. I am not saying that the Dajjal will take on any other form than what is clearly stated in our Quran and ahadeeth, but with the onslaught of microtrends, mainstream fashion, popularized language, and made-up ideologies, we are already prone to a form of deception that is already infiltrating our minds; not through force, but through familiarity, convenience, and constant exposure.

How Deep Has This Deception Sunk In? 

It has become increasingly difficult to hold onto our faith in this day and age, as foretold to be a sign of the end of time. As narrated by Anas ibn Malik , the Prophet said:

“A time of patience will come to people in which adhering to one’s religion is like grasping a hot coal.” [Sunan al-Tirmidhī 2260, Sahih (authentic) according to Al-Albani]

With the world changing so rapidly, Islam can sometimes feel centuries behind in its practices. Determining what is halal and haram, and what is permissible in interactions, dealings, and research, can make Islam seem more rigid than it truly is. While endless information is available with a few clicks, the more advanced technology becomes, the less informed people seem to be. 

AI Videos and the Threat of Misinformation 

AI has been in development long before its public release. Now, with common citizens having access to powerful technologies, it is increasingly difficult to discern what is real. Globally, this poses threats to security, sincerity, and solidarity. Fake pictures and videos can deceive the untrained eye and spread misinformation rapidly. Recently, videos of sheikhs, muftis, and scholars have been scrutinized for questionable statements. Short clips of muftis giving fatwas without proper evidence have become popular among those who lack deep knowledge of Islamic Fiqh. Comments often show confusion and doubt, highlighting the need for proper understanding.

“Relying solely on what we see, instead of belief grounded in authentic teachings, contradicts Islamic principles.” [PC: Aerps.com (unsplash)]

This illustrates a severe unity and media literacy problem within the Ummah. Many Muslims turn against one another online, often prioritizing personal validation over seeking truth. Relying solely on what we see, instead of belief grounded in authentic teachings, contradicts Islamic principles. Being knowledgeable in deen should not negate being competent in understanding the world around us. Proper understanding of religion requires awareness of modern technologies and media, as well as the tools to critically assess information. 

The Rise of “Sheikh GPT” and AI Misguidance 

AI is increasingly being used as a resource for Islamic guidance. Columbia Journalism reported that AI models provided incorrect answers to more than 60 per cent of queries (Columbia Journalism, 2025). These systems can offer biased, speculative, or incorrect responses. Many people unfamiliar with scholars turn to conversational AI for religious advice, believing they are receiving reliable guidance. 

Religious questions, especially nuanced ones, require consultation with scholars, muftis, or sheikhs. Classical knowledge involves research, evidence, and context, often unavailable online. The preservation of Islamic knowledge was never casual or convenient. Scholars of hadith would travel for months, sometimes years, to verify a single narration, carefully examining chains of transmission, the character of narrators, and the consistency of reports. Imam al-Bukhari is reported to have memorized hundreds of thousands of narrations, accepting only a fraction after rigorous scrutiny, prayer, and verification. Knowledge was earned through discipline, sacrifice, and accountability, not instant answers or surface-level familiarity.

AI cannot replace the depth of human scholarship or the oral traditions through which Islam has historically been transmitted. Old manuscripts, parchments, and other sources of wisdom are not accessible to AI, which only draws from online content. While AI may provide answers to simple questions, it encourages habits of shallow engagement, diminishing the practice of active research and reflection. 

Digital Manipulation and Contextual Misuse 

Creators who are not knowledgeable about Islam often take ayahs, hadith, and practices out of context to produce viral content. These clips spread quickly, often with inflammatory captions, provoking outrage rather than informed discussion. A 2025 UNESCO report described AI-generated content as creating a “crisis of knowing,” making it difficult for users to distinguish authentic from fabricated material (UNESCO, 2025). 

This is particularly dangerous for religious content. AI-manipulated videos of respected scholars, like the case of Sheikh Dr Al-Sudais, demonstrate how quickly misinformation can erode trust. AI models are often seen as convenient conversationalists, but they lack accountability, depth, and the ability to interpret religious context, nuance, and jurisprudential principles. Overreliance on these tools fosters a “copy-paste” mentality and encourages superficial engagement with Islam. 

The Role of AI in Surveillance and Control 

The concept of AI itself is not inherently bad. AI has many legitimate applications in research, organization, and efficiency. However, with it increasingly used directly against Muslims, including in surveillance, data tracking, and social monitoring, we must approach it with caution. Reliance on AI can subtly condition compliance and even make us more receptive to the tricks of the Dajjal. It is no longer merely a tool for convenience; it has become an instrument of influence and control that can weaken spiritual and communal resilience. 

Returning to Authentic Learning of Islam

“Deep engagement with the deen is essential to develop discernment, patience, and spiritual strength.” [PC: Ishan-Seefromthesky (unsplash)]

Patience and discernment are essential. The Prophet ﷺ warned that a time would come when holding firmly to one’s religion would be like grasping a burning coal, a trial that demands endurance, clarity, and restraint (Jamiʿ al-Tirmidhi, no. 2260). Critical thinking, verification, and measured responses are necessary to avoid deception. Knowledge of both deen and dunya is crucial. Understanding Islamic teachings while being aware of modern communication methods, digital influence, and misinformation allows the Ummah to protect its faith and its community.

AI is not inherently evil, but when misused, it becomes a tool of confusion, division, and doubt. The responsibility falls on each of us to seek knowledge actively, question critically, and prioritize authenticity over convenience. Just like we as Muslims have been repeatedly warned to seek protection from the deception of the Dajjal, why not also wake up our consciousness to the many influences that are already present, subtly infiltrating our minds?

Yet the remedy remains steadfast: patience, authentic knowledge, and unwavering commitment to Islam. 

Related:

– The Promise of SAIF: Towards a Radical Islamic Futurism

– [Podcast] Man 2 Man: How Social Media Is Killing Your Imaan

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

As someone who has spent more than two decades researching, writing, and advocating for the visibility of Latino Muslims, I have witnessed both the challenges and the power of reclaiming our narratives. The struggle to be recognized as authorities in telling our own stories is ongoing, particularly in spaces that remain patriarchal and dominated by outsiders. Yet it is precisely because of this marginalization that it becomes all the more urgent to affirm the voices and contributions of Latino Muslims in the United States and beyond.

My exploration of Latino Muslim identity began during my undergraduate years at the University of Maryland, where I majored in modern languages and linguistics, specializing in Spanish and education. Having embraced Islam only five years earlier, I was still learning to navigate the intersection of cultural heritage and faith. Through coursework, I became fascinated by how Islam had shaped Spanish and Portuguese culture, and, by extension, the Americas. Linguistic, culinary, and traditional threads revealed connections between my ancestry and my faith, highlighting how deeply entwined Islam has long been with Latino identity. These discoveries reinforced the importance of telling stories that illuminate our history, assert our belonging, and resist erasure.

“Our goal was simple: to make knowledge about Islam accessible to our families and to other Spanish-speaking families. At that time, resources about Islam in Spanish or within a Latino context were scarce.” (PC: Stepping Stone Charity)

This academic curiosity soon evolved into a personal mission as I began volunteering at my local mosque to assist Spanish-speaking visitors and newcomers to the faith. After marrying my husband, another Latino convert whose family hails from Ecuador, we founded the PrimeXample Company in 2005, and it later evolved into Hablamos Islam. Our goal was simple: to make knowledge about Islam accessible to our families and to other Spanish-speaking families. At that time, resources about Islam in Spanish or within a Latino context were scarce. We began translating articles, fatwas, and educational materials, building a website, and offering our services as interpreters and translators at local mosques and community events. Our work was born out of the necessity for resources to explain our decision to embrace Islam in a way that resonated with our families’ cultural backgrounds and values. However, as we expanded, we discovered a broader community of Latino Muslims who shared our experiences and aspirations. Our work transformed from serving our own families to supporting a growing network of Spanish-speaking Muslims nationwide and even beyond US borders.

The Raíces Run Deep

When we moved to New Jersey, my husband and I became active in the North Hudson Islamic Education Center (NHIEC), where we helped their outreach committee and organized events for the predominantly Latino community in Union City. In a city where over 80% of the population is Latino, Spanish was the language of daily life. Take, for example, my husband’s grandmother; she migrated from Ecuador to New Jersey in the mid-to-late 1970s and did not speak a word of English despite living in Union City for decades. His parents learned broken English, but Spanish remains their dominant language.  Even in the mosque, the Friday sermon was simultaneously translated to Spanish on headsets for those who could not understand the usual Arabic. The outreach committee planned open houses and street parties, held regular classes for new converts, translated materials, and created spaces where Latino Muslims could connect, learn, and share their stories. However, the gathering they are most widely known for is the annual Hispanic Muslim Day, held every Fall, typically around Hispanic Heritage Month. A young Puerto Rican convert, Daniel Hernández (now Imam Daniel Hernández), conceived the idea for this celebration with the former Imam of NHIEC, Mohammad Alhayek. This year (2025) was the event’s 23rd anniversary.

Through our outreach work, we learned that Latino Muslims had been building communities long before us. From the inner-city Bani Saqr movement in Newark, New Jersey, and the Spanish-speaking mosque in New York, Alianza Islamica, to the Latino American Dawa Association (LADO), we connected with individuals and organizations dedicated to supporting Latino Muslims. In the days before social media, we networked through Yahoo groups, AOL chats, and email threads, forging bonds that transcended geography. We often reminisce about how we were connected even before social media. There is an untold history that is deeply personal, rooted in the desire to reconcile our heritage with our faith and to make sense of our identities in a society that failed so many times to recognize our existence beyond our conversion stories.

Despite our longstanding presence and contributions, Latino Muslims have often been sidelined in mainstream narratives. Too frequently, nuestras historias – our history and our stories – are told by outsiders like non-Muslim academics, journalists, or other opportunists, who lack the lived experience to truly understand our journeys. I have witnessed, time and again, how the phenomenon of Latino Muslim conversion is reduced to a headline, a curiosity, or a trend, rather than a testament to the resilience and diversity of our communities. The latest tendency seems to be checking off Latino Muslim characters on a diversity list to fulfill equity requirements without offering an authentic voice. I have personally received messages from people outside our community, who have never even met a Latino Muslim, yet want to add such a character to their books or illustrations simply because it is now considered “the thing to do.” Often, this is at the suggestion of an editor or professor eager to feature this so-called “new, up-and-coming” group, even though we are not new at all but have been an integral part of the dawah in the United States since the earliest documented conversions.

What’s Old is New Again?

This observation led me to dedicate my master’s thesis to researching Gen X and early millennial (Xennial) Latino Muslim converts and their contributions to American Muslim communities as I pursued graduate studies at Chicago Theological Seminary. I wanted to shift the focus from conversion to continuity, to examine what happens after the shahada, when the initial excitement passes and a lifetime of living Islam begins. As part of my research, I conducted in-depth interviews with Latino Muslims who have practiced Islam for twenty to thirty years. These individuals have raised families in the faith, established organizations, translated Islamic knowledge into Spanish, and built the institutions that others are now benefiting from. Their stories prove what the literature has missed for decades: that Latino Muslims are not the “new kids on the block” or the latest slot on the diversity checkbox.

“The work of Latino Muslims is not motivated by a desire for recognition, and so many of us are content to stay under the radar. But there is power in preserving history in our own words.” [PC: Social Cut (unsplash)]

As someone who has spent years writing, translating, and advocating for my community, I find the trend of thoughtless reporting on Latino Muslims deeply insulting.

Our stories are not commodities to be packaged and sold for profit. They are the lifeblood of our communities, shaped by struggle, sacrifice, and unwavering faith. To see them reduced to superficial summaries or exploited for fame is a painful reminder of the ongoing battle for narrative ownership.

Additionally, Latino Muslims are not a monolith; our journeys to Islam are as diverse as our backgrounds. Even terms like Hispanic and Latino do not fully encompass our diversity. Some of us are converts, others were born into the faith, and many have family histories that span continents and generations. We are from several Caribbean islands and from every nation in North, Central, and South America. We are professionals, educators, community organizers, and scholars. Our contributions to our families, communities, and the broader Muslim ummah are vast and varied.

Historically, Latin America has embraced immigrants from every Muslim-majority country, including our brothers and sisters from Palestine, who could not find refuge in the US. They have been able to settle there, establish successful businesses, and reach some of the highest political positions. Yet, despite our shared history, our stories are overlooked, misunderstood, and/or misrepresented. The mainstream narrative tends to focus on the novelty of Latino Muslim conversion, ignoring the rich histories and ongoing work of those who have been Muslim for decades, or even generations. It fails to recognize how we have navigated cultural, linguistic, and religious boundaries to build vibrant, resilient communities.

Uplifting Latino Muslim Voices

The work of Latino Muslims is not motivated by a desire for recognition, and so many of us are content to stay under the radar. But there is power in preserving history in our own words. If we do not take ownership of nuestra historia, others will do it for us. The time has come for Latino Muslims to reclaim our heritage and assert our rightful place in the tapestry of American Islam. To do so means writing, speaking, and sharing our truth so that future generations, searching for guidance, inspiration, and reassurance, can benefit from it. We must also hold accountable those who seek to appropriate or misrepresent our experiences. Outsiders can research, conduct studies, perform surveys, and even sit at our tables, but they will never fully understand what it is like to live in our shoes, to walk our path, and to experience Islam as we do. It is even more frustrating when someone creates an AI-generated text, slaps a Latino title on it, and claims to have researched Latino Muslims. That is just pure laziness and a disrespect to all of us.

I have been raising my voice since at least 2005. And as time passes and I grow older, perhaps becoming less patient, my voice will become louder and more direct, because it is imperative to recognize those who have been working tirelessly to bring visibility to the Latino Muslim community in the US. I do not claim this work as mine. Many others deserve recognition, including Benjamin Perez, Khadija Rivera, Ibrahim González (may Allah have mercy on them), Juan Galvan, the creators of Banu Saqr, and the founders of Alianza Islámica. Dr. Juan Suquillo, Sheikh Isa Garcia, the Dawah committee at the North Hudson Islamic Education Center, the people at Islam in Spanish, and my contemporaries at the Ojala Foundation, LADO, LALMA, Latina Muslim Foundation, ILMM, and so many more have all contributed to our community’s growth and visibility. We must also remember the countless Latino Muslims who converted in the 1920s and 30s, and those who came before them.

We have to be respectful and mindful of our history. Just because we live in the age of social media and AI does not mean we are the first to do this or that, nor does it make us experts on others’ lived experiences. Our stories are not marketing tools or diversity props. They are sacred narratives shaped by struggle, faith, and resilience, and they deserve to be handled with integrity. As Latino Muslims, we will continue to speak for ourselves and preserve our own history, but we cannot do this work alone. I call on the wider Muslim community to uplift authentic voices, to seek out and cite the work of those who live these realities, and to support initiatives that support and empower our Latino brothers and sisters. Most of all, we must ensure our stories are told accurately and respectfully.

Related:

– The Fast and the ¡Fiesta!: How Latino Muslims Celebrate Ramadan

– 25 Things Latino Muslims Want You To Know

The post Owning Our Stories: The Importance Of Latino Muslim Narratives appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

It was once the darling slogan of liberal Muslims in the West, their talisman against suspicion, their get-out-of-Guantánamo-free card. In the shadow of 9/11, when Muslims were being strip-searched at airports, interrogated at borders, and rounded up in their neighborhoods, Western Muslim leaders found themselves endlessly parroting this question. It was their shield, their mantra, their desperate attempt to prove to the “civilized” world that they were not, in fact, bloodthirsty savages. The Prophet Muhammad , they said, was compassionate, tolerant, patient, merciful, endlessly forgiving—more yoga instructor than warrior, more monk than statesman. And so, every Friday sermon, interfaith dinner, and panel discussion circled back to the same soothing line: “What would Muhammad do?”

But how curious the silence today. Gaza burns, Palestinians are starved and slaughtered in numbers that recall the darkest chapters of the twentieth century, and the “good” Muslims—the liberal Muslims, the moderates, the tireless ambassadors of interfaith kumbaya—suddenly forget their favorite question. Nobody wants to ask what Muhammad would do in the face of genocide. Why not? Because the answer is too obvious, and too uncomfortable.

The Post-9/11 Muhammad: A Pacifist Mascot

Let us recall the context. After 9/11, Muslim leaders in the West scrambled to perform what might be called the ‘Great Pacification of the Prophet.’ No longer the man who organized armies, brokered treaties, defended his community, and met aggression with force—Muhammad was rebranded as a pacifist saint. His patience in the face of insults was exalted. His forgiveness of enemies was endlessly quoted. His emphasis on inner struggle (jihad al-nafs) was turned into the *only* jihad worth mentioning.

The goal was transparent: to convince a deeply suspicious Western public that Muslims were not ticking time bombs. “See?” these Muslims pleaded. “Our Prophet is just like your Jesus—peaceful, forgiving, nonviolent.” The “What would Muhammad do?” question became their version of “What would Jesus do?”—a saccharine slogan perfectly fitted for bumper stickers and youth group T-shirts.

It was not entirely disingenuous. The Prophet Muhammad did indeed show patience, did indeed forgive, did indeed emphasize inner reform. But the narrative was highly selective. It was also deeply political. In the ‘War on Terror’ climate, Muslims were under enormous pressure to prove their loyalty, to sanitize their religion, and to present Islam as a benign spiritual hobby rather than a political force.

The Vanishing Question

Fast forward two decades. The bombs fall on Gaza. Hospitals, schools, and refugee camps are obliterated. A population penned in like cattle is starved, denied water, denied medicine. The word “genocide” is whispered at first, then shouted openly. Muslims across the world watch in horror, rage, and despair.

And yet, those same liberal Muslims who once found their tongues so nimble with the phrase “What would Muhammad do?” now fall mute. Where are the interfaith panels, the carefully rehearsed sermons, the op-eds in The Guardian? Where are the hashtags and the bumper stickers?

The silence is not accidental. The silence is strategic. Because everyone knows what Muhammad would do in the face of genocide. And it does not fit the pacifist rebranding.

The Uncomfortable Answer

The Prophet Muhammad , faced with the annihilation of his people, did not advise patience and Twitter activism. He did not retreat to his prayer mat and wait for celestial justice. He organized. He defended. He made it an obligation for his followers to resist. The Qur’an itself makes the duty explicit: “What is the matter with you that you do not fight in the cause of God and for those oppressed men, women, and children who cry out, ‘Lord, rescue us from this town of oppressors!’” [Surah An-Nisa; 4:75]

This is not an obscure or fringe interpretation. It is the mainstream of Islamic tradition: defensive jihad is mandatory when a community faces extermination. For Muhammad , the defense of the vulnerable was not optional, not metaphorical, and certainly not reducible to therapy-speak about “resisting your lower self.” It was concrete. It was armed. It was non-negotiable.

So if one were to ask, honestly, “What would Muhammad do?” in the face of Gaza, the answer would be devastatingly clear: he would organize a protection force, and he would make defense a duty. He would not wring his hands about “messaging” or fret about what white liberals might think. He would not outsource morality to the State Department. He would stand between the slaughterer and the slaughtered.

And that is precisely why the question is not being asked.

The Liberal Muslim Dilemma

Here lies the dilemma of the “good” Muslim in the West. For two decades, they have invested heavily in the pacifist-Muhammad narrative. They have reassured their governments, their colleagues, and their neighbors that Islam is peace, that jihad is just a personal detox retreat, and that the Prophet was basically a life coach with a beard.

To now say, “Actually, Muhammad would call for armed defense of Palestinians” is to risk unraveling two decades of carefully curated branding. It risks losing the approval of the very Western societies they have bent over backwards to placate. It risks being lumped in with the “bad” Muslims—the militants, the radicals, the ones forever marked as barbarians.

And so, better to stay silent. Better to issue vague platitudes about peace, condemn “violence on both sides,” and retreat into the comfort of interfaith dinners. Better to mock or sideline those “useful idiot” imams who dare to speak the uncomfortable truth. Better to remain respectable, even as Gaza burns.

The Politics of Selective Piety

The irony, of course, is glaring. When cartoons of the Prophet appeared in Denmark or France, the “good” Muslims were quick to remind us: Muhammad ignored insults. He forgave his enemies. He never condoned mob violence. And they were right.

The true taboo question then is not “What would Muhammad do?” but “Why are liberal Muslims afraid to ask it?” [PC: Aliaksei Lepik (unsplash)]

This is not simply cowardice. It is complicity. It is the internalization of Western hegemony so deep that one’s own religious tradition must be amputated to fit the demands of respectability. It is to reduce Muhammad to a caricature—first as a saintly pacifist, now as a silence-inducing taboo—rather than grapple with the full complexity of his legacy.

The Real Taboo

Here, then, is the true taboo question: not “What would Muhammad do?” but “Why are liberal Muslims afraid to ask it?”

The answer is not flattering. They are afraid because they know the truth: Muhammad would not sit idly by in the face of genocide. He would act. He would fight. He would obligate his followers to defend the oppressed.

And that answer does not play well at interfaith luncheons. It does not reassure security agencies. It does not flatter the liberal order. So the question is buried. The Prophet, once deployed as a prop for Western acceptance, is now silenced by those same Muslims who once could not stop invoking him.

Conclusion: The Prophet They Dare Not Name

“What would Muhammad do?” was never really about Muhammad . It was about politics. After 9/11, it was about survival: Muslims needed to prove they were safe, and so they fashioned a Prophet who was permanently nonviolent. Today, in Gaza, the same question would expose a truth too dangerous for “good” Muslims to utter: that their Prophet was not only merciful but militant when justice demanded it.

And so the silence speaks volumes. The “good” Muslims have trapped themselves in their own narrative. They are so invested in the pacifist Prophet that they cannot now call upon the real one. They have chosen approval over integrity, respectability over responsibility.

But history is merciless. When future generations ask, “What did you do during the genocide in Gaza?” the “good” Muslims will not be able to say, “We asked what Muhammad would do.” They did not dare. And perhaps that silence will be remembered as their loudest answer.

Related:

– Beyond Badr: Transforming Muslim Political Vision

– The Terminal Hypocrisy Of A Crumbling West And The Dawning Of A New Age for Muslims

The post What Would Muhammad Do? – Silencing The Prophet: Liberal Islam’s Cowardice In Gaza appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

When I hear Muslim candidates make promises like “freeze rent,” “build affordable housing,” “free public transit,” “raise the minimum wage,” or “expand childcare,” I understand the intention. These are calls for relief and mercy. At the same time, I also understand why many people hesitate to support such measures.

From conversations with Muslims who fall into this line of thinking, I have heard people express fear of ballooning government budgets, taxpayer strain, and an ever-expanding state that replaces family and community with bureaucracy. Yet, I think the real tragedy is that neither side of this political divide (liberal or conservative) is grappling with the entirety of the situation fairly. On one hand, some speak of compassion without accountability, and on the other, they demand responsibility without mercy. The result is a nation swinging between extremes of a heartless pursuit of efficiency and a naive promise of endless aid.

Between Mercy and Responsibility

As Muslims who are to set a precedent and example for the societies we find ourselves in, one thing is absolutely clear. No matter what the political pressures are, and perhaps even our desire to remain pragmatic, we cannot be indifferent to suffering. When federal programs like food stamps (SNAP) risk disruption, threatening millions of vulnerable and innocent seniors, children, and families with hunger, we have a duty to care.

Moreover, we cannot just demand action from others; we ourselves must also be willing to act. The Qur’an praises those “who give food, in spite of love for it, to the needy, the orphan, and the captive,” [Surah Al-Insan; 76:8] saying:

“We feed you only for the countenance of Allah; we wish not from you reward or gratitude.’” [Surah Al-Insan; 76:9]

Americans in line for food aid.

Demonstrating (and I use this verb on purpose) mercy is not just about good politics, like many Americans have come to see it; it’s about recognizing real pain and responding to it instead of waiting for some perfect economic system. If a family can rest easier because they can afford groceries this month through expanded credits, that relief is a mercy worth supporting.

The Prophet said, “He is not a believer whose stomach is filled while his neighbor goes hungry.”^[2]

All this being said, I know that mercy also demands honesty. Many of these short-term political promises and vehemently argued solutions are indeed bandages on deeper wounds. The question that Muslims must provide moral leadership on, however, is not only how to help families survive today but to make demands and attempts to answer why they are drowning in the first place. Should it take two incomes just to afford rent? Why has inflation turned basic food into a luxury? As the national debt swells, why are billions of dollars flowing abroad in aid packages that most citizens don’t understand? Why does our government keep printing money as if wealth can appear without real economic activity?

The Root of the Crisis: A System Built on Riba

At the root of all this is a moral distortion that the Qur’an names explicitly: Riba. Also defined as excessive interest or usury. The Qur’an declares,

“Those who consume riba will not stand [on the Day of Judgment] except as one stands who is being beaten by Satan into insanity.” It then warns, “If you do not desist, then be informed of war from Allah and His Messenger.”^[3] For those educated in economics, they might have a better understanding than the average person of how an economy built on debt becomes an economy at war with its own conscience, as we are seeing today. Riba turns money into a self-replicating creature that feeds on itself rather than serving human needs.

In the Islamic worldview, wealth is not evil, but it is also never absolute. The Qur’an commands that economic systems be designed “so that wealth does not merely circulate among the rich of you.”^[4] That single phrase dismantles both capitalist hoarding and socialist dependency. It implies movement where resources flow instead of the normalization of wealth that pools upward, insulated by tax loopholes and corporate immunity, while ordinary families bear the weight of inflation and debt.

In light of the conversation around food stamps at risk, the Qur’an condemns “those who, when they take by measure from people, take in full, but when they give by measure or weight to them, they cause loss.”^[5] These verses expose a timeless hypocrisy whereby leaders ensure their own salaries, pensions, and benefits while freezing food assistance for families who depend on it to survive. They take their measure in full (their comforts, healthcare, privileges), yet when it comes time to measure out sustenance to the vulnerable, they shrink the scale.

Beyond Relief

This is where Muslims must elevate the conversation beyond just secular, unfair policymaking and call it for what it is, which is moral fraud. The Qur’an warns again:

“And O my people, give full measure and weight in justice and do not deprive the people of their due and do not commit abuse on the earth, spreading corruption.” [Surah Hud; 11:85]^[6] 

To defraud is not only to cheat in trade and business; it is also just as much about withholding what is due and betraying the trust of leadership. When those entrusted with public resources exploit power or abandon the poor under the guise of fiscal prudence, they commit fasad (corruption) in its truest sense.

In Islam, there is no entity nor individual that is beyond moral responsibility, unlike the American political and legal structures, which include mechanisms such as presidential immunity that can shield leaders from full accountability. That is why the khalifah Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz stands as one of history’s rare examples of moral political leadership when he curbed official excess, prohibited state officials from personal enrichment, and redirected wealth to those in need.^[7] Umar ibn al-Khattab’s establishment of the Bayt al-Mal (public treasury) embodied this same principle, where he ensured that every citizen received food and a stipend.^[8]

A Need for Preparation and Reform

Today, we need to revive that spirit. Muslims in America must prepare for both immediate and long-term responses. In the short term, we must fund and connect community food banks, revive mutual-aid efforts, and strengthen zakat institutions. During crises like potential SNAP disruptions, we cannot wait for Congress to act, because as individuals, we have a responsibility to use our own resources to act ourselves.

Muslims in Detroit pack boxes of food aid.

During the pandemic, many youth in our community created an initiative to check in on vulnerable neighbors, ensuring they had access to groceries, food, and basic necessities. We should be ready to revive that same spirit of compassion and initiative whenever the need arises again.

On top of bringing immediate relief, in the long term, our discourse must mature. Saying that we cannot be content with endless relief programs that merely manage misery is not the same as saying that these efforts should ever cease. Rather, our aim should be expanded to simultaneously reform the structures that produce it in the first place. From systems driven by Riba and speculation all the way to corporate impunity.

Supporting short-term relief does not make us naive, but ignoring long-term reform does make us complicit. I believe this is the dichotomy Muslim-Americans must break, and indeed, we need to introduce nuance to the public discourse in order to actually effect change in our milieu. If we can revive this balance of compassion that acts and honesty that reforms, we may yet model for America what a truly moral economy looks like.

From Critique to Action

In moments of crisis, moral response requires both organization and imagination. Here are ways Muslims can respond:

1. Partner with local faith and civic groups.
   

Churches, temples, and interfaith coalitions often host food banks or meal programs. We should actively collaborate to ensure Muslim families, who generally underuse public social services due to stigma or inaccessibility, are reached.

2. Work with local jurisdictions.
   

City and county governments have relief grants or emergency food distribution funds. Muslim organizations can apply for these or partner with agencies to reach underserved Muslim populations more directly. Part of proactively getting into local governments’ radar is ensuring good outreach and networking so that communities are able to actually offer their masjid as pop-up distribution hubs for wider city food relief programs.

3. Leverage technology platforms that can bring benefit!

I personally have been inspired by the acts of kindness that apps like NextDoor have facilitated in the last few years. Neighborhood apps connect those in a local community like never before and provide us the opportunity to offer our services to those who live near us and are in need. It’s an active facilitator to help us actualize the hadith about not going to sleep if we know that our neighbors are hungry.  

4. The Sunnah of Ukhuwwah.

The life of the Prophet demonstrates the reality of true brotherhood, sisterhood, and community. During times of prolonged crisis, the Muslim community has a tried and tested method for ensuring families are supported through the pairing up of the well off with the less well off. We have the tools and ability to pair families during a crisis, and many are willing to step up. Moreover, non-Muslim grocery stores always have a program where buyers can purchase a bag of groceries for a family in need, and this should be replicated for halal stores as well.

5. Leverage business owners.

I’ve been to many Muslim-owned restaurants that will pack up food at the end of the day to take to homeless shelters, and I am hopeful that this is a common practice among most restaurants, Muslim or otherwise. With some coordination, it shouldn’t be too difficult to prioritize halal meals for Muslim families and leave the non-halal foods for non Muslim families and homeless shelters.

Conclusion

Dallas masjid feeds the hungry during a “Day of Dignity.”

It is true that many of the proposals touted in modern politics, from endless subsidies, government expansion, and reliance on state relief, can create unhealthy dependence, weaken families, and bankrupt nations. History has proven that a purely socialist model collapses under the weight of its own promises. As Muslim-Americans, we cannot be naïve to that reality.

There is, however, an equal and opposite truth! The working class did not create the economic disaster we are living in; the powerful did. It was not working-class families who engineered a riba-driven financial system, inflated the currency, shipped jobs overseas, or allowed corporations to grow fat at the expense of people’s livelihoods and quality of life diminishing. It was not single mothers or grocery clerks who ballooned the national debt to trillions, speculated on Wall Street casinos, or carved tax loopholes wide enough to swallow entire communities.

To look at the hungry today, those people trapped in a crisis they did not create, and say that they don’t deserve government support in the meantime, is moral blindness. Muslims were not placed in this land to parrot slogans from either political wing. So, although we recognize that perpetual welfare is not a vision for human dignity, refusing to feed the hungry while elites gorge themselves is cruelty disguised as prudence.

When the powerful eat full and the poor go hungry, the response of a believer ought to be moral intervention at every level.

Related:

Faith In Action: Zakat, Sadaqah, And Islam’s Role In Embracing Humanitarianism In A Globalized World

On Social Justice and being “Prophetic”

The post When The Powerful Eat Full And The Poor Go Hungry appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

My daughter hears the shouting: “Free, free Palestine!” I try to mute the video, but it’s too late. Since our trip to Palestine last year, she has developed a kind of radar — anytime the word Palestine is mentioned within earshot, she rushes over to see what it’s about. She is drawn to her roots, pulled by something deep and familiar. She comes running to me, eyes wide with recognition and hope.

“Mama,” she says, “I want to go.”

In our home, justice isn’t something we just talk about — it is something we practice. We’ve discussed boycotts, what it means to use your voice with purpose, and how standing up to oppression is an act of faith. With all the protests these past months, she has joined them more than once, her small hands keeping rhythm with the drums as voices around her rose in unison.

But before she can finish her sentence, footage flashes across the screen of students being thrown to the ground and arrested. Confusion crosses her face. Her eyes search mine for an explanation. I froze. I realized in that moment something irreversible was happening — something I had hoped wouldn’t happen for a very long time.

My daughter was growing up in front of my eyes. These few seconds would shape her being faster than years of childhood ever could. For the first time, she was seeing just how unfair and unjust the world she lives in can be.

I tried to explain that some people don’t want others talking about the genocide happening in Gaza. Her brows furrowed. “But Mama, people are dying,” she said softly. “That’s never okay.”

That moment will stay with me forever: the first time my daughter experienced moral dissonance. It was a concept I had read about so many times, but I never felt the full weight of it until now. That painful awareness in her eyes that the values she has been taught to hold sacred do not always govern the world around her. For children, moments like this aren’t abstract. They aren’t “complicated.” They are simple and formative. They build the architecture of their belief systems.

Developmental psychologists like Lawrence Kohlberg tell us that as children grow, they move from obedience to conscience. They grow from doing what is expected to understanding why something is right or wrong. When that understanding collides with the punishments or silences of the adult world, they enter a moral freefall. Their conscience and consequence no longer align.

“Children are not born with distrust. They are taught it. They learn it by omission, by silence, by the lessons we are too afraid to name.” [PC: Melbin Jacob (unsplash]

What pushed them into this freefall? Realizing that their world punishes empathy toward Palestinians because it challenges the narratives of power. They realize that mourning the murdered is seen as defiance because the world refuses to acknowledge the oppressed.

Muslim children are taught that courage means standing for justice, but then they watch college students handcuffed for doing exactly that. They are told that honesty matters, but they see adults stay silent to keep their jobs. They see compassion rewarded only when it is convenient, and condemned when it challenges power.

This isn’t confusion. It’s something far deeper — it’s a spiritual and moral collapse. A wound that forms when their moral world shatters. Those in power have betrayed the very values they claim to uphold, and it has fractured our children’s moral foundation. In schools, we call it cognitive dissonance. In childhood, it simply feels like heartbreak.

Then we turn around and pretend to preach Social/Emotional Learning (SEL). We tell them to practice empathy. We tell them they must be self-aware. We teach them to make responsible decisions rooted in ethics. Yet the world they live in violates every one of these principles in plain sight. “Responsible decision-making” in our world has little to do with ethics. It’s about bottom lines, hidden agendas, and five-year plans that ignore human impact unless it aligns with profit or power.

How are we supposed to teach empathy when compassion for certain lives is punished? How can we model social awareness when silence is praised as professionalism? How can we ask for “responsible decision-making” when we, the adults, excuse violence because it’s “complicated,” —  which really means I don’t want to look closely enough to see the human cost?

For Muslim youth watching Gaza unfold, these lessons ring hollow. They are being asked to regulate emotions that adults are too afraid to name. They are being asked to build relationships in a world that others their faith. They are being asked to make “ethical choices” in a moral landscape that keeps shifting beneath their feet.

No wonder our kids are exhausted, anxious, and depressed. They live in a world that preaches empathy but rewards apathy. They live in a world that teaches inclusion but normalizes exclusion. The world keeps telling them, “Do as I say, not as I do.” Then we wonder why they don’t trust the systems that are meant to guide them. We wonder why they question everything. We don’t have a generation of children who “just listen” anymore because the world no longer makes sense.

The faith we once placed in authority no longer exists. We grew up believing the adults around us wanted to keep us safe. Our children are watching those same adults look away as their tax dollars kill tens of thousands of people who look and speak just like them. They are witnessing a moral dissonance so loud it drowns out every promise we make to them. Somewhere deep inside, their instincts whisper: trust no one.

Children are not born with distrust. They are taught it. They learn it by omission, by silence, by the lessons we are too afraid to name. When young people repeatedly witness injustice without repair, they internalize one of two messages: either morality is performative or they must carry the moral weight that adults have dropped.

And so they do.

They carry it.

They carry it in their sleeplessness and in their anger. They carry it in their posts, their protests, and their art. They begin to see everything as a cause because the world has shown them that indifference kills. Their restlessness is not rebellion…it is grief with nowhere to go.

Erik Erikson reminds us that adolescence is the stage of identity — of testing who they are against what the world says they should be. Albert Bandura’s social learning theory reminds us that children model what they see. So what happens when they are testing their limits in a world that models hypocrisy? When every adult in the room looks away instead of calling it out?

They learn that silence is safer than truth.
They learn that empathy must be rationed.
They learn that belonging requires erasure.

If we, as educators, want to heal this fracture, we have to start by being honest about it. We cannot ask students to “self-regulate” emotions we refuse to validate. We cannot praise “perspective-taking” while silencing their own perspectives with “It’s too complicated.” We cannot teach courage as a virtue while punishing its expression.

SEL without moral clarity becomes compliance training.
Character education without justice becomes performance.

When I think back to that night with my daughter, I realize she wasn’t just asking about Gaza. She was asking about justice itself — whether the world still has a conscience. I don’t want her heart to harden before it fully blooms. I want her to keep believing that justice, humanity, and truth still matter. I want her to keep believing that speaking for the oppressed is not a crime but a command.

As the chant for “cease-fire” echoes across the world today, people begin to find slivers of hope, but then the news breaks again: more assassinations, more bombings, more death. In that moment, I can’t help but wonder how deep this wound will go for our children.

They are living in a constant state of contradiction — hearing one thing on mainstream news while knowing, in their bones, another truth entirely. It’s a unique kind of dissonance. It is the dissonance that comes from watching the attempt to erase an entire society in real time: thousands killed, thousands more entombed beneath rubble, hundreds still breathing through dust and despair.

Yet, our children are still hearing people call this genocide “complicated.”

This is the work before us as educators and as parents: to rebuild moral trust. We need to show our children that the values we recite are not decorative words but living principles. We need to prove to them, through our actions, that integrity still exists somewhere between silence and survival.

We may not be able to undo the harm they have witnessed, but we can choose not to deepen it.
We can teach with moral courage.
We can speak with gentleness and understanding.
We can model what it means to be human in a world that keeps forgetting — because our children are watching, and one day, they will rise to rebuild what our silence allowed to crumble.

Related:

– Real Time Scholasticide: The War On Education In Gaza

– Ice Cream: A Poem On The Loss Of Childhood In Gaza

The post The Pedagogy Of Silence: What Muslim Children Are Learning About Truth appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.