Do not blindly follow conjectures of other people

 بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ

وَإِن تُطِعۡ أَكۡثَرَ مَن فِي ٱلۡأَرۡضِ يُضِلُّوكَ عَن سَبِيلِ ٱللَّهِۚ إِن يَتَّبِعُونَ إِلَّا ٱلظَّنَّ وَإِنۡ هُمۡ إِلَّا يَخۡرُصُونَ

Wa in tuti’ aksara man fil ardi yudillooka ‘an sabeelil laah; iny yattabi’oona illaz zanna wa in hum illaa yakhrusoon

Al-An’am (The Cattle) 6:116   Now if you pay heed unto the majority of those [who live] on earth, they will but lead you astray from the path of God: they follow but [other people's] conjectures, and they themselves do nothing but guess.   

Do not blindly follow conjectures of other people

Towards the end of the twentieth century, Muslim scholasticism saw a resurgence in the literalist tradition, partly due to the economic support offered by certain governments for the same. This has led to a decline in the teaching of so-called twenty-first century skills, especially creativity and critical thinking, and increased emphasis on sticking to opinions of past scholars.  The challenge is not a new one, but it definitely is on a larger scale now, as compared to the past.

One of the famous Punjabi scholars of undivided India, Hafiz Muhammad ibn Barakallah Lakhwi (1806-1893) , who has had a tremendous impact on religious thought in the Punjabi language, narrates a story to illustrate this problem from more than a hundred years ago.

There was once a trader who used to travel far and wide for business.  When he got married, it was thought that he would settle down, but few months into the marriage, he decided to travel again as expenses were increasing.  He promised to write to his wife regularly, and he kept his promise till he reached a city in Afghanistan where he had to stay for sometime. His laziness overwhelmed his desire to keep his promise.  As his replies grew few and far between, despite his newly wed wife sending letters on a regular basis, she started becoming upset by all of this. One fine morning, fed up by all of this, she asked her brother to bring the family stationery and the seal and wrote a terse message to him.

"On this and this date, your wife has become a widow."

Then she sealed it and stamped it with the family seal, and asked her brother to go travel to Afghanistan, find his brother-in-law, and deliver the letter to him in person. The brother reached his destination after several weeks, and lost no time in locating his brother-in-law.  After the usual curtsies he delivered the letter.

Upon reading the letter, the trader became distraught. He start crying inconsolably.  His friends gathered round and offered him support and tried to find out what was wrong.  He just showed them the letter and kept on weeping.

One of his friends was puzzled.  He protested to his friend, the trader : "But your wife can only become a widow if you are dead. And yet, here you are, hale and hearty."

To which the trader replied: "What you say does seem to make sense, but I recognize her handwriting, and the stationery, as well as the family seal. Furthermore,  it is delivered by her brother himself. Thus, this chain of narration is authentic and cannot be ignored or disregarded."

Believe without the need for proof

 بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ

إِنَّمَا ٱلۡمُؤۡمِنُونَ ٱلَّذِينَ ءَامَنُواْ بِٱللَّهِ وَرَسُولِهِۦ ثُمَّ لَمۡ يَرۡتَابُواْ ...

Innamal muu’minoonal lazeena aamanoo billaahi wa Rasoolihee summa lam yartaaboo

Part of Al-Hujurat (The Private Chambers) 49:15  [Know that true]  believers are only those who have attained to faith in God and His Apostle and thereafter have had no doubt..... .... 

Believe without the need for proof !

I would like to share a little known incident during the life of eminent theologian Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī, which underscores the superiority of belief over reasoning. It may well be difficult to establish whether Razi had become a practicing Sufi towards the end of his life or not. There even exists a letter from Shaykh al-Akbar ibn ‘Arabi, who, impressed by his imaginative faculty (al-quwwa al-mutakhayyila), ended up advising (and probably praying for) Razi to try to reach the stage of gnosis and contemplation, even going so far as to tell him that in heaven, medicine and geometry will not be of much help to him. He certainly became sympathetic to Sufism, especially in his later life, when he started writing deeply spiritual poetry. Quite a few of his books have esoteric ideas as well.

The build up of the incident supposedly involves Razi meeting the Sufi saint Najm al-Din Kubra in a gathering and being very condescending and belittling to Sufis in general. Having boastfully claimed the superiority of his religious knowledge over others, he went ahead and said that he knew a hundred proofs of existence of God. Najm al-Din replied calmly,

 البرهان لإزالة الشك , والله تعالى جعل في قلبي نورا ,لا يدخل معه الشك فضلاً عن الحاجة للبرهان 

"Is not each proof due to some doubt? God has placed in my heart a light of certainty which dispels all doubt so that they are no longer in need of any (further) proofs.”

The answer shocked Razi, and he begged the saint to be allowed to enter on the Path under his direction.

After some days of vigil and prayers, the saint asked Razi to lie down and started reciting a prayer and moving a white shroud from his feet towards his chest. Razi suddenly stood up shouting at the top of his voice: "I cannot, I cannot!"  He felt as if all the knowledge of which he had been so proud was slowly leaving him and he could not bear it. The saint replied that the purpose of the exercise was to remove all bookish knowledge from him so that he is freed from its burdens.  Thereupon Razi agreed to resume the process.  Again, as the saint was pulling the shroud upto Razi's chest, he sprung up again screaming ( لا أطيق ) "I cannot stand it!". This time he begged the saint that it was unbearable for him to rid everything he had so painstakingly acquired over the years.  So the saint asked him, " What then do you want from me?". Razi replied: "Just help me navigate the test when my time is near."

This anecdote is narrated in Fritz Meier/Meyer, Die Fawa'ih algamal wa-fawatih al-galal des Nagm ad-Din al-Kubra (Wiesbaden: Steiner, 1957), pp. 45-46, and according to another version in Ahmad Ibn Mustafa Tash Kubri Zadah's Mawsu'at Mustalahat Miftah al-Sa'adah wa-Misbah al-Siyadah fi Mawdu'at al-'Ulum, (Hyderabad, 1329 k.s.], vol. 1, pp. 450-51), it is rather during this retreat that Razi is supposed to have received the inspiration that guided him in the composition of his great commentary on the Qur'an.

The two then went their separate ways, and Razi returned to his hometown thousands of miles away. One day when Najm al-Din Kubra was doing ablution (wudhu') with a pot in his hand, he suddenly became agitated and in the process hurled the pot towards the wall in front of him and yelled : "O Fakhr al-Din! Say, 'I believe in my Lord without the need for proof." After that he calmed down a bit, and then smiled, and continued his ablutions.  The disciples were shocked at this, and noted the date and time, but they would not come around to ask the saint for an explanation of all that happened.  Several months passed, and the disciples of Razi came to their town and they were able to confirm that the date and time of Razi's passing coincided with the incident of the wudhu' pot. The disciples of Razi confirmed that the theologian was much agitated at the time of his passing and kept mumbling for a long time, and just before he passed away he exclaimed "I believe in my Lord without the need for proof!" and then was calm, relaxed and then passed away smiling.

Finally the disciples gathered around the saint Najm-al-Din and asked for the secret behind all this.  He said that at the time of death Razi was confronted by iblees (the Devil) who challenged him to prove the existence of God. As Razi started to give proofs, he was met with strong refutations each time. Reaching ninety-odd proofs, Razi realized that his proofs were running out and his logic was betraying him at a very critical juncture of his life. Thereupon the saint came to the rescue by telling Razi what he said, and thus iblees was left defeated and Razi died on true faith.

Learn true charity

 بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ

وَأَنفِقُواْ مِن مَّا رَزَقۡنَٰكُم مِّن قَبۡلِ أَن يَأۡتِيَ أَحَدَكُمُ ٱلۡمَوۡتُ فَيَقُولَ رَبِّ لَوۡلَآ أَخَّرۡتَنِيٓ إِلَىٰٓ أَجَلٖ قَرِيبٖ فَأَصَّدَّقَ وَأَكُن مِّنَ ٱلصَّـٰلِحِينَ

Wa anfiqoo mim maa razaqnaakum min qabli any-ya’tiya ahadakumul mawtu fa yaqoola rabbi law laaa akhkhartaneee ilaaa ajalin qareebin fa assaddaqa wa akum minassaaliheen

 

وَلَن يُؤَخِّرَ ٱللَّهُ نَفۡسًا إِذَا جَآءَ أَجَلُهَاۚ وَٱللَّهُ خَبِيرُۢ بِمَا تَعۡمَلُونَ 

Wa lany yu ‘akhkhiral laahu nafsan izaa jaaa’a ajaluhaa; wallaahu khabeerum bimaa ta’maloon

Al-Munafiqun (The hypocrites) 63:10-11  And spend on others out of what We have provided for you as sustenance,  ere there come a time when death approaches any of you, and he then says, "O my Sustainer! If only Thou wouldst grant me a delay for a short while,  so that I could give in charity and be among the righteous!".  But never does God grant a delay to a human being when his term has come; and God is fully aware of all that you do.  

 إِن يَسۡـَٔلۡكُمُوهَا فَيُحۡفِكُمۡ تَبۡخَلُواْ وَيُخۡرِجۡ أَضۡغَٰنَكُمۡ

Iny yas’alkumoohaa fa yuhfikum tabkhaloo wa yukhrij adghaanakum

Muhammad  47:37  ...[for,] if He were to demand of you all of them, and urge you ("to divest yourselves of all your possessions"), you would niggardly cling [to them], and so He would [but] bring out your moral failings.

 

لَن تَنَالُواْ ٱلۡبِرَّ حَتَّىٰ تُنفِقُواْ مِمَّا تُحِبُّونَۚ وَمَا تُنفِقُواْ مِن شَيۡءٖ فَإِنَّ ٱللَّهَ بِهِۦ عَلِيمٞ

Lan tanaalul birra hattaa tunfiqoo mimmaa tuhibboon; wa maa tunfiqoo min shai’in fa innal laaha bihee ‘Aleem

Al-Imran (Family of Imran) - 3:92,  [But as for you, O believers,] never shall you attain to true piety unless you spend on others out of what you cherish yourselves; and whatever you spend - verily, God has full knowledge thereof.  3:92

ٱلشَّيْطَـٰنُ يَعِدُكُمُ ٱلْفَقْرَ وَيَأْمُرُكُم بِٱلْفَحْشَآءِ ۖ وَٱللَّهُ يَعِدُكُم مَّغْفِرَةًۭ مِّنْهُ وَفَضْلًۭا ۗ وَٱللَّهُ وَٰسِعٌ عَلِيمٌۭ

Ash-shayṭānu yaʿidukumul-faqra wa ya’murukum bil-faḥshā’i; wallāhu yaʿidukum maghfiratam-minhu wa faḍlā; wallāhu wāsiʿun ʿalīm

Al-Baqarah 2:268 — Satan threatens you with poverty and urges you towards shameful miserliness, while Allah promises you forgiveness from Him and bounty. And Allah is All-Encompassing, All-Knowing.

 

وَمَن يُوقَ شُحَّ نَفْسِهِۦ فَأُولَـٰٓئِكَ هُمُ ٱلْمُفْلِحُونَ

Wa man yūqa shuḥḥa nafsihī fa-ulā’ika humul-mufliḥūn

Part of Al-Hashr 59:9 — And whoever is protected from the stinginess of his own soul, it is they who are the successful.

 
Learn true charity
Charity in the way of Allah is a proof of our sincerity in religion and devotion to Allah. Throughout the history of human kind there are countless examples of charity where humans have excelled, and set for us a precedence to follow. I am showcasing a few stories here from the vast literature available at our disposal.

Lesson 1: Watering the plants
Abu Aqil Ansari was one of those companions of the Prophet ﷺ who had the smallest of means but was extremely large hearted. When the call was made for preparations for the expedition of Tabuk, just like all Muslims, he also wanted to contribute. Unfortunately, he did not have anything of value in the house. But he wanted to participate, and couldn't live with himself if he could not.

He decided to earn some money to give in charity. He found that the owner of a nearby orchard, a Jew by religion, wanted his date plants watered. Abu Aqil offered his services and a deal was struck for one date for every large bucket of water.  He worked all night long using the heavy bucket to water each and every plant and was among the last companions to reach the masjid bringing charity. He went to the Prophet ﷺ and said: 'O Allah's Messengerﷺ! This is a Sa' of dates. I spent the night bringing water and earned two Sa' of dates as compensation. I kept one Sa' (for my family) and brought you the other Sa'.'

Looking at a handful of dates in blistered and bloody hands (due to hard work), the some people started to mock Aqil saying "Allah and His Messenger ﷺ are not in need of this charity. What benefit would this Sa' of yours bring? Allah does not need the Sa' of Abu Aqil."

This hurt Abu Aqil but he bore it patiently.  The Prophet ﷺ was moved by is noble and selfless action and took the dates by his own hands and distributed them over the piles of charity (that the others had brought). His sadaqah may seemed little, but his sincerity and effort caused it to weight more than the mountain of Uhud.

It is also on this occasion that Allah revealed the verses:

 
الَّذِينَ يَلْمِزُونَ الْمُطَّوِّعِينَ مِنَ الْمُؤْمِنِينَ فِي الصَّدَقَاتِ وَالَّذِينَ لاَ يَجِدُونَ إِلاَّ جُهْدَهُمْ فَيَسْخَرُونَ مِنْهُمْ سَخِرَ اللّهُ مِنْهُمْ وَلَهُمْ عَذَابٌ أَلِيمٌ

 Allazeena yalmizoonal mut tawwi’eena minalmu’mineena fis sadaqaati wallazeena laa yajidoona illaa juhdahum fayaskharoona minhum sakhiral laahu minhum wa lahum azaabun aleem

At-Tawbah (The Repentance) 9:79: It is these hypocrites] who find fault with such of the believers as give for the sake of God more than they are duty-bound to give, as well as with, such as find nothing [to give] beyond [the meagre fruits of] their toil, and who scoff at them [all]. God will cause their scoffing to rebound on themselves. and grievous suffering awaits them" 

 
Lesson 2: The Halwa

Al-Rabi ibn Khuthaym, a pious tabi'ee, a student of Abdullah ibn Masʽud was known for his asceticism, silence, and scrupulousness in religious observance. He had dug a grave in his house, and used each day to sleep therein so that by this expedient he might remember death unceasingly. He would say "Were the remembrance of death to leave my heart for a single hour, it would become corrupted."

Once his wife said to him that she wished that she could prepare something for him to eat, a delicacy, so that she may feel a sense of fulfillment since their entire married life he had never asked her to prepare anything special, not had ever complained about anything. He relented and told her about his favorite sweetmeat, a halwa made of dates and butter. The wife was extremely happy about it and worked extra hard to make it absolutely delicious with an assortment of nuts.

As soon as she served a fragrant, delicious, piping hot halwa to him a mentally ill person knocked at their door. His unkempt appearance, drooling and groaning was evidence of his disconnect with the world.  Rabi took the bowl and sat down next to the man and started feeding him little by little until the man had eaten all of the halwa.

His wife, witnessing the whole scene protested that in their entire married life, Rabi had never desired any delicacy, and yet he ended up not eating anything out of it. What she felt was worst is that he fed it to someone who was absolutely unaware of what he was eating, whether it was a specially prepared delicacy or anything ordinary. Rabi wept upon hearing this and said, "O my beloved wife, he may not be aware of what he was eating, but my Lord and God is most certainly aware. Is it not enough for you and me that my Beloved Lord would be pleased that we gave the thing that we loved to one of His creation who is unwell and not taken care of ?"

Lesson 3: The Water Fountain 
Al-Bayhaqi mentions that once his teacher, Al-Hakim, developed sores on his face. We tried to find all kinds of cures and medicines but after more than a year of treatment, the sores had turned worse. Then our teacher requested Abu Uthman al-Sabuni, another famous and pious scholar to make a special supplication during the Friday sermon.  The supplication and prayer was done and lots of people participated. 

The following Friday, al-Sabuni got a note from the audience. It was from a woman who had written that the previous week when she had gone home she, feeling bad, continued praying for al-Hakim till the wee hours of the night till she fell asleep. She had then been blessed with a vision of the Prophet ﷺ in her dream. She was asked to convey the message to Al-Hakim to make arrangements for ordinary people to have access to drinking water.

When Al-Hakim came to know, he immediately had a sabil constructed right on the road outside his house. Once it was prepared and cleaned, he got it filled with the sweetest water and had ice placed in it for extra cooling and refreshing purposes.

Hardly a week had passed after this that his sores started healing and not long after he was completely healed. His face turned even more handsome and radiant than before and he lived on several years after that.
 
Lesson 4: Charity of the Gnostics
Mujaddid Alfe Thani Shaykh Ahmad Sirhindi ( رَحِمَهُ ٱللّٰهُ‎) was a famous Sufi scholar of the Indian Sub-continent, from the Naqshbandi tariqah.  
Once, in context of discussing generosity in spending for charity he mentions the following story:

When someone asked Shaykh Bayazid Bastami ( رَحِمَهُ ٱللّٰهُ‎) about what is obligatory in charity, he said :
"Do you want to know according to the jurist, or according to the Knower (عارِف) of God ?" 

 The questioner asked: "Is there a difference?"

To which Bayazid replied: "Of course.  The jurists will say give one-fortieth (2.5%) and be proud of yourself on having completed the obligation. But the Knowers will say even after giving everything, you should be obliged that it was accepted."

The puzzled questioner replied : " I have never even heard of such a thing that you are expected to give everything, and yet feel grateful/obliged."

The great shaykh replied "Have you not heard of the precedence set by our master Abu Bakr (رضي الله عنه)?".  Then he went on to narrate the story which is in the following hadith, among others :

 

عن عمر بن الخطاب قال أَمَرَنَا رَسُولُ اللَّهِ صَلَّى اللَّهُ عَلَيْهِ وَسَلَّمَ أَنْ نَتَصَدَّقَ فَوَافَقَ ذَلِكَ عِنْدِي مَالًا فَقُلْتُ الْيَوْمَ أَسْبِقُ أَبَا بَكْرٍ إِنْ سَبَقْتُهُ يَوْمًا قَالَ فَجِئْتُ بِنِصْفِ مَالِي فَقَالَ رَسُولُ اللَّهِ صَلَّى اللَّهُ عَلَيْهِ وَسَلَّمَ مَا أَبْقَيْتَ لِأَهْلِكَ قُلْتُ مِثْلَهُ وَأَتَى أَبُو بَكْرٍ بِكُلِّ مَا عِنْدَهُ فَقَالَ يَا أَبَا بَكْرٍ مَا أَبْقَيْتَ لِأَهْلِكَ قَالَ أَبْقَيْتُ لَهُمْ اللَّهَ وَرَسُولَهُ قُلْتُ وَاللَّهِ لَا أَسْبِقُهُ إِلَى شَيْءٍ أَبَدًا

3675 سنن الترمذي كتاب المناقب باب في مناقب أبي بكر وعمر رضي الله عنهما كليهما

قَالَ هَذَا حَدِيثٌ حَسَنٌ صَحِيحٌ

Umar ibn al-Khattab (رضي الله عنه) reported: The Messenger of Allah ﷺ  ordered us to give charity and at the time I had some wealth. I said to myself, “Today I will outdo Abu Bakr, if ever there was a day to outdo him.” I went with half of my wealth to the Prophet ﷺ and he said, “What have you left for your family?” I said, “The same amount.” Then, Abu Bakr (رضي الله عنه) came with everything he had. The Prophet ﷺ said, “O Abu Bakr, what have you left for your family?” Abu Bakr said, “Allah and his messenger ﷺ.” I said, “By Allah, I will never do better than Abu Bakr.”Source: Sunan al-Tirmidhī 3675

Grade: Sahih (authentic) according to Al-Tirmidh

The shaykh continued, "Abu Bakr (رضي الله عنه) gave all his wealth and possessions, and even his daughter in marriage to the Prophet ﷺ , and yet all his life he feld indebted to the Prophet ﷺ that he was graced by the company of the Prophet ﷺ, and blessed by the fact that the Prophet ﷺ would accept his humble offering."

The Naqshbandis traced their tariqah to this beloved companion of the Prophet ﷺ. The minimum requirement from the Knower of Allah is that they must give away everything they possess. They reach gnosis by losing what they possess and standing with what He owns. It is as if Bayazid is saying that to reach God, the way by abandoning everything that is other than Allah.  

Lesson 5: The best belongs to Allah 

There is a well known story from Baluchistan whereby there was a Sufi saint, Pir Pathan living in the hills. A very pious and knowledgeable man.  Once a young man from the town wanted to go pay a visit and maybe learn something. So he undertook this long arduous journey, starting off quite early in the morning, till he reached the abode of the saint just before maghrib prayers.

After washing up, praying and having refreshments, he approached the saint and said:
"Advise me O wise one !"
The saint, as is the way of the mysterious lovers of God, gave a cryptic advice:
"My son, do consider Allah as better than you. If you cannot do that, at least consider Him at par with yourself."
The youth was rather disappointed in this reply, as he was hoping to learn something valuable, or some secret knowledge.  He thought: "Who will ever consider himself as better or even equal to Allah?"

 Sensing the youth's disappointment, the saint said:
"My son, do hold on tight to this advice. Please. Do consider Allah as better than you. If you cannot do that, at least consider Him at par with yourself."

The youth decided there and then that this was a waste of time, and wanted to return home, but the saint asked him to stay the night and leave the next morning.

Early next morning, someone from the saint's family or disciples brought him breakfast at the place where he was staying. It was a strange breakfast. There were two portions of exquisite fresh bread, with butter, and honey. And two portions of dry stale bread, with some leftover curry. The youth was wondering. Before he started eating, he heard a voice:

"For the sake of Allah, please give me some food, I haven't eaten in several days."

Without any hesitation, the youth gave the person the bread and curry, and resumed his breakfast of bread with butter and honey.

The youth, grateful for the hospitality, went to take leave of the saint, when the saint grabbed his hand and said:
"Do hold on tight to what I said. Never forget my advice."

This really was the last straw for the youth so he retorted:
"Your hospitality is fine and all, but I feel that you are really saying something impolite in this advice. Who on earth will dare to think otherwise? Of course Allah is better than us."

Hearing this, the saint wept:
"O selfish one!  If you really considered Allah better than you, wouldn't you have given the fresh bread and butter and honey to the hungry man, and kept the stale bread for yourself? O ignorant one, if you considered Allah at par with you, wouldn't you have at least given one fresh and one stale bread, and kept the other portion for yourself? Instead, what did you do? You kept the best meal for yourself and offered stale food to the one who asked for the sake of Allah. You did not follow my advice even for a day"

Lesson 6: The Two Loaves of Bread

In Tadhkirat al-Awliyāʾ, Farīd al-Dīn ʿAṭṭār relates a beautiful story about Ḥabīb al-ʿAjamī and Ḥasan al-Baṣrī. Ḥabīb was a Persian settled in Basra, and he later became one of the close companions of Ḥasan al-Baṣrī. But he was not always the man remembered by the righteous. Before his repentance, he was a man of wealth, a money-lender, and one who lived from usury. The report says he would go around collecting from his debtors, and if he could not collect the money, he would even demand payment for the wear of his shoes.

It is a strange thing about the human being. Sometimes a heart can be hard not because it does not know that Allah exists, but because it has trained itself to think of everything in terms of gain and loss. Every step is counted. Every favour is priced. Every relationship is turned into a ledger. This is not simply a financial disease. It is a spiritual disease.

Then Allah opened a door for Ḥabīb.

One day, he went to collect from a debtor, but the man was not at home. The debtor’s wife had nothing to give him except the neck of a sheep that was left over. Ḥabīb accepted it and asked her to cook it. She said she had neither bread nor fuel. Ḥabīb went and brought both, but even that he intended to add to the debt.

While the food was cooking, a beggar came to the door.

Ḥabīb, still in the hardness of his old state, shouted that if they gave what they had to the beggar, the beggar would not become rich and they themselves would become poor. The beggar left disappointed. Then, as the report says, when the woman opened the pot, what was inside had turned into black blood. She cried out to Ḥabīb that this had come upon them because of his usury and because of the way he had shouted at the beggar.

At that moment, something broke inside him.

There are moments when a person hears a thousand reminders and remains unmoved. Then one small incident enters the heart like an arrow. A pot of food. A beggar at the door. A harsh word. A sudden unveiling of one’s own ugliness. And the servant realizes, perhaps for the first time, “This is what I have become.”

Ḥabīb repented.

The next day, he went out and children in the street shouted that Habib the usurer was coming and that they should run away lest his dust settle on them. Their words wounded him. He went to the gathering of Ḥasan al-Baṣrī, and some words from that great imam struck his heart so powerfully that he fainted. From that day, he changed. The one who once hunted debtors began to flee from the possibility of wronging them. He gave away his possessions. He turned himself towards worship, repentance, and service.

This background is important because the story of the two loaves is not just a story of a generous man. It is the story of a transformed man.

The one who once said, “If we give, we will become poor,” became the one who gave before calculating poverty.

One day, Ḥasan al-Baṣrī came to visit Ḥabīb. Ḥabīb placed before him the food he had: two simple loaves of barley bread and a little salt.

That was all.

No feast. No meat. No trays of delicacies. No abundance carefully arranged for a guest. Just two barley loaves and salt. But sometimes a small table becomes a vast classroom.

Ḥasan began to eat.

Then a beggar came to the door.

Ḥabīb took the two loaves and the salt and gave all of it to the beggar.

Ḥasan was astonished. From one angle, his objection was perfectly understandable. A guest had been invited. Food had been placed before him. The guest had a right. The poor man also had a right. Would it not have been more practical to divide the food? Give one loaf to the beggar and leave one for the guest. Or give part to one and part to the other.

So Ḥasan said, in effect, “Ḥabīb, you are a good man, but it would be better if you had some knowledge. You took the food from your guest and gave it all to the beggar. You should have given a portion to the beggar and a portion to the guest.”

Ḥabīb said nothing.

This silence is beautiful.

He did not argue. He did not defend himself. He did not turn generosity into debate. He did not say, “You do not understand my spiritual rank.” He simply remained silent.

Then, after a short while, a servant entered carrying a tray.

On that tray was roasted lamb, sweetmeat, fine bread, and five hundred silver dirhams.

Ḥabīb gave the money to the poor and placed the food before Ḥasan.

When Ḥasan had eaten from it, Ḥabīb said, with tenderness and with teaching in it, that Ḥasan was a good man, but it would be better if he had a little more faith, because knowledge must be accompanied by faith.

This is not a story against knowledge.

God forbid.

Ḥasan al-Baṣrī was an imam of knowledge, piety, fear of Allah, wisdom, and eloquence. Ḥabīb himself was transformed through Ḥasan’s words. So we should not read this as an argument that the learned are inferior to the simple, or that one may dispense with knowledge and rely on emotion. That is a dangerous and false reading.

Rather, this story teaches that knowledge must become life.

Knowledge must pass from the tongue to the hand, from the hand to the heart, from the heart to trust. Knowledge tells us the rights of the guest and the rights of the beggar. Faith tells us that Allah is not absent from either right. Knowledge teaches us order. Faith saves order from becoming fear disguised as wisdom.

There is calculation born of wisdom.

And there is calculation born of stinginess.

There is prudence that protects people from harm.

And there is prudence that is only a polite name for miserliness.

There is planning that comes from responsibility.

And there is planning that comes from not believing that Allah can replace what is given for His sake.

The difficulty is that the two can look very similar from the outside.

A person may say, “I am only being practical,” when in reality he is afraid.

A person may say, “I must think of the future,” when in reality he does not believe that the One who fed him yesterday can feed him tomorrow.

A person may say, “Let me first have enough,” not realizing that for the greedy soul “enough” is a horizon that keeps moving farther away.

The Qur’an says that Satan promises us poverty. This is a remarkable expression. Satan does not merely tell us to be miserly. He first creates an imagined future in which we are abandoned, needy, embarrassed, and alone. Then, from that imagined future, he commands the present. He says, “Do not give. Do not help. Do not open your hand. What if you need it later?”

Allah, on the other hand, promises forgiveness and bounty.

The believer is therefore always standing between two promises: the false promise of poverty from Satan and the true promise of bounty from Allah.

Charity is where we reveal which promise we believe.

Ḥabīb had once believed the promise of poverty. He had once said to a beggar, “If we give you what we have, you will not become rich and we will become poor.” That was the old Ḥabīb. The Ḥabīb of the two loaves had learned another truth. He had learned that the One who sends the beggar can also send the provision.

This does not mean that we become reckless. It does not mean that we give away someone else’s right. It does not mean that we neglect our families, fail to repay debts, or use stories of the saints as excuses for irresponsible behaviour. Charity with someone else’s trust is not charity. Generosity built on injustice is not generosity.

But it does mean that we must examine ourselves.

How many times have we used “responsibility” to cover stinginess?

How many times have we used “planning” to avoid sacrifice?

How many times have we given Allah the leftovers and then called it balance?

How many times has a beggar, a relative, a student, a neighbour, a worker, or a suffering person appeared at our door while we were sitting with our two loaves and salt, and we began calculating until the moment of mercy passed?

The point is not that everyone must always give all the bread. The point is that sometimes our hearts are so trained in withholding that even giving half feels like a catastrophe.

Ḥabīb’s greatness was not merely that he gave two loaves.

His greatness was that the beggar at the door was not, to him, an interruption.

The beggar was the test.

The beggar was the lesson.

The beggar was the doorway.

To another person, the arrival of the beggar would have ruined the meal. To Ḥabīb, the arrival of the beggar completed the meal. The table was not diminished when the bread left it. The table became meaningful.

This is the secret of charity.

When food is only food, giving it away feels like losing it.

When food is trust from Allah, giving it away feels like returning it to its true Owner.

When money is only money, charity feels like subtraction.

When money is a means of nearness to Allah, charity becomes multiplication.

When knowledge is only information, it teaches us how to divide the bread.

When knowledge is alive with faith, it teaches us when the whole loaf must leave our hand.

This lesson also connects with the previous one. In the story of the stale bread and the fresh bread, the young man learned that when someone asks in the name of Allah, we should not give Allah what we ourselves do not want. Here, Ḥabīb had only simple barley bread and salt. He did not possess something better to keep for himself. So he gave what he had.

The first story teaches: do not give the worst while keeping the best.

This story teaches: do not despise the little when it is all you have to give.

Some people cannot give roasted lamb, sweetmeat, fine bread, or five hundred dirhams.

But they have two loaves.

They have time.

They have a kind word.

They have the ability to listen.

They have a skill.

They have a few coins.

They have a ride to offer.

They have a meal to share.

They have a duʿā made with sincerity.

They have the ability to forgive someone.

They have the ability to remove one difficulty from someone’s path.

So let no one say, “I have nothing.”

The poor may give from poverty, and their gift may outweigh the giving of the rich. The busy may give a moment, and that moment may rescue a heart. The wounded may give mercy, and that mercy may be more precious because it came from one who knows pain.

The story of Ḥabīb is also an answer to a disease of our age. We live in a world that teaches us to optimize everything. Every action must be efficient. Every relationship must be useful. Every hour must produce measurable benefit. Even charity is sometimes reduced to strategy, publicity, branding, tax benefit, or social approval.

But the beggar at the door does not always arrive inside our strategic plan.

Mercy often comes unannounced.

The question is whether the heart is still capable of responding.

Of course, institutions need plans. Families need budgets. Communities need systems. Islam does not ask us to be chaotic. But the heart must not become so bureaucratic that compassion requires three levels of approval before it moves.

Ḥabīb teaches us generosity before calculation.

Not instead of wisdom.

Before calculation.

Meaning: let mercy be the first movement of the heart, even if wisdom then helps shape the action.

Let the first instinct be, “How can I help?” not “How can I escape?”

Let the first thought be, “Allah has sent this person to me,” not “Why is this person disturbing me?”

Let the first fear be fear of disappointing Allah, not fear of decreasing our pantry.

A heart trained in trust sees possibilities that fear cannot see.

Fear saw two loaves disappearing.

Trust saw a Lord who gives without being diminished.

Fear saw a guest losing his meal.

Trust saw both the beggar and the guest being fed.

Fear saw subtraction.

Trust saw a door opening.

The Prophet ﷺ taught us that the upper hand is better than the lower hand: the hand that gives is better than the hand that asks. But to become the upper hand, the hand must first open. A closed hand cannot be a generous hand. A closed heart cannot be a trusting heart.

May Allah protect us from the stinginess of our own souls. May He make us people whose knowledge becomes action, whose action becomes mercy, and whose mercy becomes a means of nearness to Him. May He teach us to give wisely, sincerely, quietly, and beautifully. May He never allow fear of poverty to overpower trust in His bounty. And may He make even our two small loaves a path to His pleasure. Ameen.

A brief source note: this story is found in the Ḥabīb al-ʿAjamī section of Muslim Saints and Mystics, A. J. Arberry’s English rendering of episodes from Farīd al-Dīn ʿAṭṭār’s Tadhkirat al-Awliyāʾ. The source identifies Ḥabīb as a Persian settled in Basra and a close associate of Ḥasan al-Baṣrī after his repentance. It also narrates his earlier life as a usurer, his transformation, and the later episode in which he serves two barley loaves and salt to Ḥasan, gives them to a beggar, then receives a tray of richer food and five hundred dirhams, which he gives to the poor before teaching that knowledge must be accompanied by faith. (Internet Archive)