Dengan nama Tuhan yang Esa
Yang terpaling Maha Pemurah
Maha Kasih pada hamba-Nya
Puji-puji bagi-Nya Allah,
Tuhan alam genap semesta
Yang terpaling Maha Pemurah
Maha Kasih pada hamba-Nya
Tuhan Hari Pengakhirsudah,
Hanya pada-Mu sembah tulus
Hanya Engkau tempat meminta
Pandu kami di jalan lurus
Jalan kaum yang Engkau redha,
Bukan jalan kaum termurka
Atau bangsa sesat teralpa.
Tentang Beban
Takkan Tuhan menambah beban Melainkan kau mampu menahan Atas daya setiap insan. Hasil baik semua usaha Hasil jahat semua durjana Semuanya ‘kan kau tanggung jua. Maka doa dipohon angkat: Wahai Tuhan pemilik Rahmat! Jangan kami terkira laknat Andai kami terkhilaf ingat. Wahai Tuhan segenap alam! Jangan kami Engkau bebankan Persis kaum dimasa silam. Wahai Tuhan maha semesta! Jangan kami Engkau bebankan Sedang tiada kami berdaya. Dan maafkan silapnya kami Ampunkanlah dosanya kami Rahmatilah kesemua kami Yang bertegas menentang musuh Engkau jua Pemberi Ampuh Beri kami Menang yang Kukuh. Terilham oleh Al Baqarah 286.
Tentang Masa, Iman dan Pesan
Demi masa - ya, sesungguhnya Insan penuh rugi hidupnya Kecuali yang menaruh iman Dengan benar, menyampai pesan Dengan sabar, menyebar pesan. Terilham oleh Al Asr.
On Beautiful Patience
One of the most singular stories in the Quran is that of Joseph. Unlike the stories of other prophets in the Holy Book, which are typically spread over many different chapters and verses, the story of Joseph forms a single coherent narrative, contained in a single chapter which bears the name of Joseph – the Patient, the Beautiful, the Translator of Dreams, the Saviour of Egypt.
One of the most poignant episodes in the story of Joseph, of course, is the sorrow of his father, Jacob. This loving father, well aware of Joseph’s piety and destiny, sought to protect his prodigal son from the jealousy of his envious siblings. Alas, the father’s warning was no match for the machinations of his children: they threw Joseph down the bottom of a well to die, and later pretended to the father, weeping, that Joseph was devoured by a wolf.
Curiously, while the father was quick to challenge the veracity of his children’s claim, the narrative does not speak of castigation or punishment. Jacob says, instead:
“No! Your souls must have tempted you to do something evil. So I can only endure with beautiful patience! It is Allah’s help that I seek to bear your claims.”
But immediately after this, the narrative shifts from Jacob the father to the travails of Joseph the son: discovered at the bottom of a well, sold into slavery, refusing his mistress’ seduction and placed in prison despite his innocence, until later rescued from imprisonment and placed in charge of the great storehouses of Egypt, upon the King’s pronouncement:
“Today you are highly esteemed and fully trusted by us.”
As the story would have it, there is another mention of that phrase, “beautiful patience”: when Joseph’s brothers, desperate for food, enters into Egypt, their brother was detained by Joseph, and they had to return back to their father, this time reporting truthfully over the loss of yet another of their patriarch’s progeny. This time, Jacob repeats his lament, barely suppressing his long-held grief over the loss of Joseph:
“No! Your souls must have tempted you to do something evil. So I am left with nothing but beautiful patience! I trust Allah will return them all to me. Surely He alone is the All-Knowing, All-Wise.” He turned away from them, lamenting, “Alas, poor Joseph!” And his eyes turned white out of the grief he suppressed.
Of course, the story ends happily: Joseph eventually reveals his identity, and welcomes his parents with love and honour:
“Then he raised his parents to the throne, and they all fell down in prostration to Joseph, who then said, ‘O my dear father! This is the interpretation of my old dream. My Lord has made it come true. He was truly kind to me when He freed me from prison, and brought you all from the desert after Satan had ignited rivalry between me and my siblings. Indeed my Lord is subtle in fulfilling what He wills. Surely He alone is the All-Knowing, All-Wise.
“My Lord! You have surely granted me authority and taught me the interpretation of dreams. O Originator of the heavens and the earth! You are my Guardian in this world and the Hereafter. Allow me to die as one who submits and join me with the righteous.”
Beautiful patience: what else can carry a person through the grief and sadness of losing one’s own sons, or being cast into exile by your own siblings, wrongly accused of seduction and put into prison? What else but that beautiful patience could carry one through years of imprisonment, never for once wavering in God’s Justice and Mercy? What else but beautiful patience can explain the stoic acceptance of a father, suspicious of his own children even as he grieves for the loss of his beloved son?
Ramadan, to me, is a time for us to cultivate that aspect of beautiful patience in ourselves – a time for abstaining from food and pleasures of life, to return to Him in prayer and in companionship with His Scripture and the rhythms of the prescribed evening prayers. May He grant us the strength and the courage to arm ourselves with beautiful patience against the slings and arrows of Life’s trials!
On This Ramadan Evening (Thoughts on the 20th of Ramadan)
As I am writing this, it is the 20th night of Ramadan, and I have just completed my Tarawih prayers for the evening.
“Would you say this is the best Ramadan you’ve ever had, yang?” Kat looked up at me, asking casually.
I thought about that question, and I am compelled to answer: Yes. I am not sure if this is the best ever, but certainly the best Ramadan that I can remember in years. I am keeping to the Tarawih prayers, every night, mostly at home. I have been keeping pace with my Quran recitation, and I feel calmer than I have felt in a long, long time.
The Quran recitation, I think, has a lot to do with the latter. This year, like most of the Ramadans I can remember over the past decade or so, I made the promise to myself that I would try to recite the Quran in full – to khatam the entire Book by the end of Ramadan. And most years, I would keep pace for maybe the first week, before the full blast of work deadlines and buka puasa invites and moreh gatherings would derail me by around the second week of the fasting month.
This year so far, Alhamdulillah, it has been good. It is the night of the 20th, and I am halfway through the 24th juz of the Quran. And more than just the momentum – I feel a serenity and a palpable sense of flow these nights of Ramadan as I recite the Quran. My Arabic is barely serviceable, but I know enough to make a guess of what it is I am reading – but even when I don’t, the very act of reciting the Quran fills me with a sense of wonder and grace.
As I recite each verse, I feel myself almost floating on a breeze, my tone rising and dipping and rising again to a crescendo as I reach the end of this verse, or at the start of that other verse. At times, my recitation feels like a horse at a brisk gallop, my enunciation almost breathlessly trying to keep up with flow of His Words. At other times, I whisper the words in a low hush, just luxuriating in the melody of the words, many of which sometimes I can barely understand, with my rudimentary command of the language. Sometimes, I hear myself reading the words and I try to imagine how it must have been for the earliest Muslims, to hear this strange music and to know, in their heart of hearts, that what they were hearing was something truly Eternal.
Every year, I am told that we are supposed to make the best of the final ten nights of Ramadan – a final coup de grace to this most revered of months. I am seeing now, though dimly as if through a haze, that feeling of bittersweet embrace, knowing that I am here in the final ten nights and that the sands of Ramadan will soon run out, not to return for another year. InshaAllah, the hope is to make the most of it, before Ramadan comes to an end.
The Character of Muhammad (Peace be Upon Him)
One of the most powerful aspects of the religion of Islam that has always struck me as patently obvious, and yet so obviously ignored by Muslims in our own daily lives, is the character of Prophet Muhammad. Even before his prophethood, Muhammad was described as a trustworthy person. Dr. Muhammad Abdullah Draz, in his classic exposition of the miracle of the Quran, described Muhammad (peace be upon him) thus:
“His tongue would not utter a word without knowledge, and his eyes would not attempt to conceal anything different from what he declared. Moreover, he would not listen to those who were inclined to exaggeration as they sang his praises. He was great in his humility, with frankness and honesty that are very rare among leaders and with meticulousness that is exceptional even among scholars.”
How many of our Muslims “leaders” would this moral standard that Prophet Muhammad has exemplified for us? How many of our kings and prime ministers have employed deceit and oppression, supposedly in the defense of the religion? How many of our presidents and politicians would swell with pride as their sycophants murmur approval and adulation?
Humility, frankness, and honesty: these can feel like bygone qualities for a bygone age of heroes. And yet, these are the qualities that many Muslims continue to demand in our leaders.
The late Nik Aziz, one could argue, had a rather lacklustre record in his 23 years as Chief Minister of Kelantan. And yet, he continues to hold a strong grip on the imagination of many Malay Muslims. They remember his simple frugality, his humble demeanour, his plain spoken charm.
Humility, frankness, honesty. We can only pray that many more of us may start emulating Muhammad, fully and joyfully, in our everyday lives.
Dear Coronavirus
Dear Coronavirus,
It hardly seems believable that a microscopic ball of genetic material wrapped in layers of spiky protein like yourself could be the cause of so much grief, bringing the complex global network of human civilisation down into an unprecedented halt.
I know that since you are, by definition, a virus – straddling that grey borderland between chemistry and biology – my attempting some sort of inter-species dialogue may well be an act of foolishness. But I cannot help but wonder, if such dialogue were possible, whether you might be looking at what you have wrought over the past few months with a sense of accomplishment or self-admiration.
You see, human beings have put great store and pride in the edifice of modern human accomplishments. We have tamed the seas, levelled the mountains, explored the darkest depths of the oceans, and have broken free of the persistent bonds of gravity to touch the face of a boundless expanse. Humans have built tall towers of gleaming glass and steel, turned our sandy deserts into oases of verdant green, and built our habitations in almost every known nook and cranny of this blue jewel of a planet. We have tamed bronze and steel and stone and glass, and fashioned them into every sort of ornament and device, including this iPad that I am writing these notes on. It is remarkable, looking at it: the marvels of human advancement and ingenuity.
But there is also increasing awareness amongst many of us, that these achievements, this singular human existence, has a worm living in its very core. We have purchased these wondrous gifts, at a steep price. Every day, humans excavate, devastate, and mutilate Nature for its seemingly-boundless bounty: we strip forests of their trees, we rid jungles of their animal inhabitants, so that we can build more houses and office towers and plantations and amusement parks. We mine the deepest ocean beds for oil to power our factories and our homes and our vehicles, sparing very little thought to the ways in which these activities poison the earth that we live on, in its emissions and spillages across our skies and oceans.
All this to keep human civilisation in motion: our automobiles constantly criss-crossing broad highways over hills and valleys; our investments in companies that fashion a myriad of widgets and baubles, and fulfil the diverse desires of humanity, from the most depraved to the most dignified. A never-ending parade of human comings and goings, in cities and countries that never sleep.
And suddenly, it all stops.
Cities in lockdown. Stock markets in free fall. Empty offices and factories.
We remain chained to our homes – still comfortable, mind you, with our Netflix binges and constant Whatsapp pings – but chained nonetheless. Economies measured in the billions and trillions are on the verge of seizure, gasping for breath, even as our fellow human beings, afflicted by a dreaded affliction – yes, you, my dear viral friend – that leaves the most vulnerable among us humans gasping for life.
I read today that viruses could evolve and survive for a long time – it seems the virus that causes oral herpes have been flitting around humanity for the past six million years!
As I was reading that, I wondered: how long have you been watching us, Coronavirus (the one that our health practitioners call “Covid-19”)? How long have you been silently observing us, just waiting for the time to pounce?
As it is, humanity is rallying back. We are being asked now to separate ourselves, to distance ourselves socially, to break the chain and flatten the curve, so that we may deny you, my dear Coronavirus, of the possibility of untrammelled procreation. For our most vulnerable to survive your sudden onslaught, we need you to die, to disappear, to run out of future hosts.
I am one of those people who believe that Nature is the work of a Magnificent and Almighty Creator. We are of those who believe that God “did not create the Heaven and the Earth and everything between them in vain.” (Quran 38:27)
We believe that everything – every single thing – from the largest of the planets in orbit, to the very smallest of living things (yes, even you, dear Coronavirus!) is a wondrous Sign of His Benevolence and Mercy. We believe that every rock, every plant, every animal, every living thing and inanimate object, sings praises to Him, at every moment in the history of Creation.
I believe – nay, I know – that you have been set upon us a test, just as so many other things in life are a test for us. Today, we struggle, we cry and we bleed, in a desperate effort to save our fellow human beings from an untimely end at your hands. We tremble at what you have wrought. And yet, for many of us, we are also reminded that your rampant virulence, your frightening ability to bring our most treasured livelihoods to a halt, are yet another reminder of His Awesome Majesty.
We know this, and we accede to His Power and Glory, in all humility. But it is not a signal for meek surrender. We will struggle, we will rally back, and we will beat you. It will be at great cost, as we are already discovering, but we will do it, and we will get it done.
Perhaps, when the dust has settled, and we have beaten you back into an existential corner, we may be able to take a longer and harder look at how we have lived our lives, and how we can bend that massive mesh of human existence towards a more humane arc; one that seeks to walk down the face of this earth with humility, which aims to live in true harmony with Nature and with our own selves.
I pray that day will come soon.
ZIAD HAFIZ BIN ABD RAZAK
Originally published in the Malay Mail.