... وَعَسَى أَن تَكْرَهُواْ شَيْئًا وَهُوَ خَيْرٌ لَّكُمْ وَعَسَى أَن تُحِبُّواْ شَيْئًا وَهُوَ شَرٌّ لَّكُمْ وَاللّهُ يَعْلَمُ وَأَنتُمْ لاَ تَعْلَمُونَ
wa ‘asaaa an takrahoo shai’anw wa huwa khairullakum wa ‘asaaa an tuhibbo shai’anw wa huwa sharrullakum; wallaahu ya’lamu wa antum laa ta’lamoon
Part of Al-Baqara (The Cow) 2:216, It may well be that you hate a thing the while it is good for you, and it may well be that you love a thing the while it is bad for you: and Allah knows, whereas you do not know.
There are old tales from different lands that seem to point to the same truth: sometimes as humans, we only the surface of events, while the wisdom behind them often remains hidden until much later.
The Chinese Farmer (from a Tao/Zen tale)
One old tale tells of a farmer
who lived near the borderlands of China. He was a simple man, but he
possessed a quiet kind of wisdom.
He had only one mare, and one day it ran away.
The neighbors came to console him. They said, “What a terrible loss.”
The farmer replied, “Who knows the wisdom behind it?”
The people were puzzled. To them, the matter seemed obvious. What wisdom could there be in losing one’s only horse?
But a month later, the mare returned, and with her came a number of fine wild stallions.
Now the same neighbors came again, this time offering congratulations. “What good fortune!” they said.
The farmer replied once more, “Who knows the wisdom behind it?”
A few days later, his son tried to tame one of those stallions. The horse threw him to the ground, and he broke his leg.
Again the neighbors gathered. Again they pitied the farmer and his son.
And again the farmer said, “Who knows the wisdom behind it?”
Then
not long after, war broke out in the surrounding regions, and the
Emperor summoned every able-bodied young man to join the battle. All the
youth of the village were taken away, except the farmer’s son, whose
broken leg kept him at home.
And what do you think the farmer would say then?
He would say what he had been saying from the beginning:
“Who knows the wisdom behind it?”
The Optimist Friend (from an African tale)
Another tale tells of an African king who had a close friend, a man who would say, “Alhamdulillah, it is for the best,” no matter what happened.
Whether the day brought gain or loss, ease or hardship, those were always his words. Many people found it amusing. Others thought it foolish. But the friend never stopped saying it.
One day the king and his friend went on a hunting expedition. During the hunt, the weapon in the king’s hand misfired and blew off his thumb.
Before anyone else could speak, the friend said, “Alhamdulillah, it is for the best.”
The king was furious. He felt hurt and insulted. In anger, he ordered that his friend be sent back under guard and thrown into prison.
The friend did not protest. He simply went.
The king remained behind in camp, planning to return later. But that night, a tribe of cannibals attacked under cover of darkness and seized him. They carried him deep into the forest and prepared to offer him as a royal sacrifice before making a meal of him.
A fire was lit. The king was bound. The ritual was about to begin.
But as their priest came near, he noticed that the king was missing a thumb. He was not whole. He was imperfect. And for that reason, he was deemed unfit to be offered in sacrifice.
So they untied him and let him go.
On the long road back, the king had plenty of time to think. When he returned, he went at once to the prison and ordered his friend released.
He embraced him and said, “You were right. That accident was for the best. Had I not lost my thumb, I would have been killed.”
Then he lowered his head and said, “But I wronged you. I had you imprisoned, and that was not for the best.”
The friend smiled and said, “No, my king. That too was for the best.”
The king was astonished. “How could my imprisoning you possibly be good?”
The friend replied, “If you had not imprisoned me, I would have been with you. And since I am whole, they would have sacrificed me instead.”
Two stories. Different lands. But nearly the same wisdom.
One man said, “Who knows the wisdom behind it?”
The other said, “Alhamdulillah, it is for the best.”
In truth, they were both pointing to the same reality.
We are always in a hurry to judge events. We call one thing a disaster and another a blessing almost as soon as it happens. But how little we actually see.
The runaway mare looked like a loss. Then it looked like fortune. Then that fortune looked like misfortune. Then that misfortune became protection.
The missing thumb looked like an injury. The prison looked like an injustice. Yet one saved the king, and the other saved the friend.
How many things in our own lives have followed the same pattern?
A door closed, and later we thanked Allah that it did.
A plan failed, and only afterward did we understand what we had been spared.
A hardship came, and hidden inside it was a mercy we could not see at first.
This is one of the deep lessons of life: not everything can be judged in the moment it happens.
Sometimes what hurts us is protecting us.
Sometimes what pleases us is harming us.
And sometimes the only wisdom available to us in the moment is to stop insisting that we understand everything.
To say, with humility: Allah knows, and I do not.
Can we wait before calling something purely good or purely bad?
Can we trust that the story may not be over yet?
And when life takes something from us, can we still believe that perhaps, behind that loss, there may be a mercy not yet uncovered?
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