بِسْمِ اللّهِ الرَّحْمـَنِ الرَّحِيمِ
زُيِّنَ لِلنَّاسِ حُبُّ ٱلشَّهَوَٰتِ مِنَ ٱلنِّسَآءِ وَٱلۡبَنِينَ وَٱلۡقَنَٰطِيرِ ٱلۡمُقَنطَرَةِ مِنَ ٱلذَّهَبِ وَٱلۡفِضَّةِ وَٱلۡخَيۡلِ ٱلۡمُسَوَّمَةِ وَٱلۡأَنۡعَٰمِ وَٱلۡحَرۡثِۗ ذَٰلِكَ مَتَٰعُ ٱلۡحَيَوٰةِ ٱلدُّنۡيَاۖ وَٱللَّهُ عِندَهُۥ حُسۡنُ ٱلۡمَـَٔابِ
Zuyyina linnaasi hubbush shahawaati minannisaaa’i wal baneena walqanaateeril muqantarati minaz zahabi walfiddati walkhailil musawwamati wal an’aami walhars; zaalika mataa’ul hayaatid dunyaa wallaahu ‘indahoo husnul ma-aab
Al-Imran (The Family of Imran) - 3:14 Alluring unto man is the enjoyment of worldly desires through women, and children, and heaped-up treasures of gold and silver, and horses of high mark, and cattle, and lands. All this may be enjoyed in the life of this world - but the most beauteous of all goals is with God.
ٱللَّهُ يَبۡسُطُ ٱلرِّزۡقَ لِمَن يَشَآءُ وَيَقۡدِرُۚ وَفَرِحُواْ بِٱلۡحَيَوٰةِ ٱلدُّنۡيَا وَمَا ٱلۡحَيَوٰةُ ٱلدُّنۡيَا فِي ٱلۡأٓخِرَةِ إِلَّا مَتَٰعٞ
Allaahu yabsutur rizqa limai yashaaa’u wa yaqdir; wa farihoo bilhayaatid dunyaa wa mal hayaatud dunya fil Aakhirati illaa mataa’
Ar-Ra'd (Thunder): 13:26
GOD GRANTS abundant sustenance, or gives it in scant measure, unto whomever He wills; and they [who are given abundance] rejoice in the life of this world - even though, as compared with the life to come, the life of this world is nought but a fleeting pleasure
Lesson 1:
Many people look at the friends of Allah and imagine that they are poor because they have little of this world. Yet often their condition is by choice, for they have seen the true worth of worldly things and have turned away from them for something better.
In a teaching story, a young boy came to Dhul-Nun al-Misri with great reverence. He said that he wished to leave behind his life of comfort and spend all that he possessed, nearly one hundred thousand dirhams, on Dhul-Nun and his company of dervishes. Dhul-Nun, however, did not accept this offer. He understood that the boy was not yet mature enough to make such a decision, and so he told him to return when he had come of age.
When the boy grew older, he came back with the same request. This time Dhul-Nun allowed him to do as he wished. Before long, the wealth was spent, and the young man began keeping the company of the dervishes.
After some time, a need arose among them and there was no money at hand. The youth said with feeling that if only he still had his fortune, he would gladly spend it upon them once again. Upon hearing this, Dhul-Nun realised that although the young man had given away his wealth, he had not yet grasped the inward truth of renunciation. Worldly means still seemed weighty in his eyes.
Thereupon Dhul-Nun called him and instructed him to buy a few simple ingredients from an apothecary for perhaps a dirham, grind them into a paste, shape the paste into a small stone-like pellet, and bring it back to him. The youth did as he was told. Dhul-Nun recited something over the pellet, and it turned into a red crystal.
He then said, “Take this stone through the marketplace and ask different people what they think it is worth. But do not sell it.”
The youth first showed it to a beggar, who scolded him for trying to obtain money for a piece of coloured glass. Then he showed it to a cheerful fruit seller, who offered him a few kilos of his finest fruit in exchange for it. The vegetable seller and the meat seller were no different. Each was ready to barter some of his goods for the stone.
Every time, the youth refused.
At length he reached the shop of a jeweller. The jeweller examined the stone carefully and offered him a large sum of money for it. When he saw that the young man would not sell, he kept raising the offer, each one higher than the last. But the youth remained firm, and the jeweller was left disappointed.
On his way back, the young man stopped at the shop of a dealer in precious stones and asked her to value it. She was astonished. Again and again she asked him where he had obtained such a thing. When he pressed her to name its value, she said, “No one in this land can afford to buy this. It is a ruby of the finest quality, beyond anything I have known in my entire life. I truly cannot put a price on it.”
The youth was bewildered by these different responses. When he returned and told Dhul-Nun all that had happened, Dhul-Nun instructed him to crush the stone back into powder and cast the powder into the wind.
Then Dhul-Nun said gently, “My child, these dervishes are not lacking in wealth. Their state is their own choice. They have left something lesser for something greater in the life to come. And as for this stone, each person valued it according to the limits of his knowledge and the extent of his means. Now tell me, what worth will you assign?”
These words stirred the heart of the young man. From that day onward, the world no longer held the same value in his eyes. He had begun to understand that what most people chase with such hunger may in truth be worth very little, and that only the one who knows the value of the Hereafter can see this world for what it really is.
Let us reflect on this also. The worth of a thing is not known by the noise around it, nor by what the market offers for it, but by the depth of understanding with which it is seen. The real question is not what the world offers us. The real question is: what worth have we assigned to it in our hearts? What is it worth?
Lesson 2:
In his tafsir Rūḥ al-bayān, Ismail Haqqi (Hakki) Bursevi, the well-known Turkish scholar and mystic, relates a striking story that brings out the meaning of this verse.
وَإِنَّا لَجَٰعِلُونَ مَا عَلَيۡهَا صَعِيدٗا جُرُزًا
Wa innaa la jaa’iloona maa ‘alaihaa sa’eedan juruzaa
Al-Kahf (The Cave) 18:8 and, verily, [in time] We shall reduce all that is on it to barren dust!
It is related that Hārūn al-Rashīd had a son who, though only sixteen years old, had already turned away from the attractions of the world. He left aside the soft garments of princes and chose instead to wear a rough woolen cloak.
One day he passed by his father while ministers and courtiers were seated around him. They were troubled by the sight and said, “This boy has embarrassed the Commander of the Faithful by appearing in such a manner.”
So Hārūn al-Rashīd called him and said, “My son, you have shamed me by the way you live.”
The boy gave no answer. Then his eyes fell upon a bird perched on a wall. He said, “O bird, by the One who created you, come to my hand.”
And by Allah’s leave, the bird flew down and settled on his hand.
Then he said, “Return to your place,” and it returned.
Then he called it to the hand of the Commander of the Faithful, but it would not come.
At that the boy turned to his father and said, “No, it is you who have shamed me before the friends of Allah by your love of this world. I have decided to leave you.”
And so he left his homeland, taking with him nothing but a ring and a copy of the Qur’an. He went to Basra and there worked with mud and stones. It is said that on Saturdays he would labor with his hands, and from all that work he would keep only a dirham and a dāniq for his food.
Abū ʿĀmir al-Baṣrī says: “I hired him one day, and he did the work of ten men. He would take a handful of mud, place it upon the wall, and set stone upon stone with such ease that I was amazed. I said to myself, this is how the friends of Allah work, for they are aided in ways others are not.”
Then one day I went searching for him and found him ill in a ruined place. His body had grown weak, but his heart was still alive with remembrance. When he saw me, he recited these lines:
يَا صَاحِبِي لا تَغْتَرِرْ بِتَنَعُّمٍ
فَالْعُمْرُ يَنْفَدُ وَالنَّعِيمُ يَزُولُ
وَإِذَا عَلِمْتَ بِحَالِ قَوْمٍ مَرَّةً
فَاعْلَمْ بِأَنَّكَ عَنْهُمْ مَسْؤُولُ
وَإِذَا حَمَلْتَ إِلَى الْقُبُورِ جِنَازَةً
فَاعْلَمْ بِأَنَّكَ بَعْدَهَا مَحْمُولُ
My friend, don’t be fooled by comfort and ease—
life runs out, and every ease fades away
And if you ever come to know the state of other people, even once,
know that you’ll be held to account for them.
And when you carry a funeral bier to the graves,
know that one day you too will be (similarly) carried.
Then he said to me, “O Abū ʿĀmir, when I die, wash me and shroud me in this robe of mine.”
I said, “My dear one, why should I not shroud you in something new?”
He replied, “The living have more need of new clothes than the dead. Clothes wear out, but deeds remain.”
Then he handed me his Qur’an and his ring and said, “Take these to al-Rashīd and tell him: Your son, far from home, says to you, do not remain in your heedlessness.”
Abū ʿĀmir said: “When he passed away, I did as he had asked. Then I took the Qur’an and the ring to Hārūn al-Rashīd and informed him of what had happened.”
When al-Rashīd heard it, he wept and said, “What kind of work was my beloved child doing?”
I said, “He was working with mud and stones.”
He said, “Did you put him to such work, though he was kin to the Messenger of Allah ﷺ?”
I said, “I did not know who he was.”
Then he asked, “Did you yourself wash him (after his death)?”
I said, “Yes.”
At this, Hārūn al-Rashīd took my hand, kissed it, and placed it upon his chest. Then he went out to visit his son’s grave.
Abū ʿĀmir said: “After that, I saw him in a dream. He was seated upon a magnificent couch beneath a great dome. I asked him, ‘How are you?’”
He replied, “I have gone to a Lord who is pleased with me, and He has given me what no eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no human heart has imagined.”
Then he swore by Allah who created him and said, “No servant leaves this world the way I left it except that Allah honors him as He honored me.”
What then is this world that people cling to so tightly?
Robes and raiments, a palatial home, a title, a domain — all of it will one day become barren dust, like the world and everything in it. What is it worth?
That young man understood this while still in the spring of life. He left behind comfort, but found nearness. He abandoned appearance, but gained reality. He wore a rough cloak in this world, and was clothed in honor in the next.
We know this verse as we recite it every Thursday or Friday. But do we live as if it is true? Look at how we are entrenched in the material world, just simply look at all the possessions we have accumulated.
Everything around us will one day be reduced to dust. What remains is not what we owned, but what we sent ahead.
And we don't know when we will die.
فَالمَوْتُ آتٍ وَالنُّفُوسُ نَفائِسٌ
وَالمُستَغِرُّ بِما لَدَيهِ الأَحمَقُ
Death is on the way, and souls are the real precious things;
the fool is the one deceived by what (material things) he owns.
What are we waiting for?
Lesson 3:
Hazrat Baba Dawood Khaki (R.A) had seen position, comfort, learning and honor. He had served in high office and had lived with means. But when he came into the blessed company of Hazrat Sultan-ul Arifeen Sheikh Hamza Makhdoom (R.A), he left that life behind and chose the path of service, discipline and nearness to Allah.
But leaving the world with one’s hands is not always the same as removing it from the heart.
It is said that one day Hazrat Makhdoom Sahib (R.A) was engaged in devotion at Koh-e-Maraan, and Baba Dawood Khaki (R.A) was nearby in attendance. In that quiet moment, a thought arose within him. He remembered the days of wealth, rank and ease that he had left behind. And for a passing instant he felt that perhaps if he still had those means, he might have been able to serve his teacher better.
It was only a thought. It was not spoken. But Allah knows what lies hidden in the breast, and the true guides of the path are trained to cure even the subtle illnesses of the heart.
When Hazrat Makhdoom Sahib (R.A) rose and asked him to bring some clay for purification when water was unavailable, Baba Dawood Khaki (R.A) went at once in obedience. But wherever he turned, he could find no clay. The whole mountain had appeared to become gold. He searched around in amazement, yet could not find even a little amount for purification. What glittered everywhere before him was of no use in that hour.
He returned and told his teacher what he had seen.
Hazrat Makhdoom Sahib (R.A) then made the matter plain. Can gold take the place of clay in purification? Baba Dawood Khaki (R.A), being a scholar, answered that it could not. Then came the lesson that entered deep into the heart: why should a person long for that whose worth is not even equal to a little lump of earth when needed? What is it worth?
That was enough.
He understood that the world may shine before the eyes, but before Allah its value may be less than dust. A thing that seems great to the nafs may in reality be lower than the simplest thing that helps a servant obey his Lord.
This is the way the friends of Allah train people. They do not only correct outward actions. They purify intentions. They expose hidden attachments. They do not only remove open sins, but also the secret love of dunya that remains buried in the corners of the heart.
Many of us say that we have left the world. But has the world left us? This is the harder question.
Let us look within ourselves. What is that gold that still dazzles us? What is that thing whose absence we still quietly grieve over? What attachment remains in the heart, even after the tongue speaks of surrender?
I suggest to myself and to you that we begin by asking Allah to cleanse our hearts of love for that which distracts from Him. May Allah grant us truthful teachers, sincere hearts, and the ability to value even a handful of dust used in obedience over all the glitter of this passing world.
May Allah help us in this endeavor.
Lesson 4:
In a dramatized account of the years Yunus Emre spent learning with Hazrat Taptuk Emre (the alternative spelling Tapduk frequently appears in regional signage and tourist materials), Yunus was conflicted. He looked at the simple life of the lodge. The clothes were patched. The food was plain. The guests were many. The needs of the poor never seemed to end. And because he loved his master, Yunus felt pain at this outward poverty. He wished to be of use. He wished to lighten the burden. He wished that somehow wealth might come into their hands, so that the dergah could be eased of hardship and the needy could be helped more freely.
This was not greed. At least, not in the obvious sense. It was love mixed, perhaps, with the immaturity of not realizing that true service is independent of wealth.
One day Yunus had gone out, busy with his work, and his mind remained occupied with these thoughts. How much good could be done, he wondered, if only there were money? How much easier it would be to feed people, to repair or replace what was worn out, to meet the demands of daily life. Such reflections followed him like a shadow.
On his way back, he went looking for his murshid, who was lovingly digging a well for the benefit of all people and other creatures. As he came near the place where Taptuk Emre was sitting, he froze.
The ground around his master had changed.
The acorns lying near the roots of the trees no longer looked like acorns. They gleamed as though they had been cast in pure gold. The grass itself shone in the light, every blade like a thread of gold spread upon the earth. The whole place seemed covered in wealth that no sultan could count and no merchant could carry away.
Yunus stood speechless.
This was the very answer to the thought he had hidden in his heart. Here was treasure beyond measure. Here was ease for every outward burden. Here was enough wealth not only for a lodge, but for villages, caravans, and generations.
Yet Taptuk Emre sat in complete stillness, as though nothing unusual had happened. His face held neither surprise nor desire. He did not reach toward the gold. He did not even seem to notice it.
Then he looked at Yunus, whose astonishment had stripped him of words, and he said quietly:
Dileseydi cümle varlığı altından yaratır idi. Demek kıymet altında olmasa gerek.
Had He willed, He would have created all existence out of gold. So its worth must not lie in gold
(Note: this dialogue is presented in the dramatization of the story in the famous TV series on Yunus Emre, Episode 44; an early textual source for this wording has not been identified.)
Those words struck Yunus more deeply than the sight itself.
In that moment he understood that man is easily deceived by glitter because his sight is weak. He mistakes brightness for worth. He mistakes rarity for honor. He mistakes price for reality. But the friends of Allah see with another measure altogether. They know the answer to the question. What is it worth?
If gold had true greatness in the sight of Allah, then indeed the earth would have been made of gold, the mountains would have been gold, the leaves and rivers and skies would all have carried that same shine. But Allah created a world of soil, water, seed, wood, wind, and stone. It is man who bows before gold, not creation.
Yunus now saw that a blade of grass, remaining what Allah made it to be, is more wondrous than gold pretending to be important. An acorn in its ordinary form carries life within it. It may one day become a tree, give shade, shelter birds, and serve as firewood in winter. Gold cannot do any of this. Gold only dazzles the eye and awakens hunger in the lower self.
The shock that entered Yunus was not merely because he saw something miraculous. It was because he was made to see his own hidden assumption. He had thought that help must come clothed in money. He had imagined that relief must arrive in the form most admired by the world. But now he understood that the people of Allah are sustained by something far greater: sincerity in service, trust in the Lord, contentment with little, and freedom from being ruled by appearances.
The gold vanished as suddenly as it appeared, and the acorns were again only acorns, and the grass was again only grass. But Yunus was no longer the same. A veil had lifted from his sight.
And perhaps that is our condition as well.
We speak often of higher things, yet we still measure worth by glitter. We think a person important because he possesses wealth. We think a work valuable because it attracts attention. We think comfort is proof of favor, and simplicity a sign of lack. But the path of the pious teaches otherwise. Many of the greatest souls walked this earth with very little in their hands, yet with treasures in their hearts that kings could neither buy nor understand.
The lesson is not that gold is evil. Gold is only gold. The lesson is that man becomes small when he gives to gold a rank that Allah did not give it. The real poverty is not to live without wealth. The real poverty is to have wealth live within you. The real poverty is to lose the ability to recognize the signs of Allah in ordinary things.
May Allah purify our sight, protect us from being dazzled by the world, and teach us to recognize true worth where He has placed it. Ameen.
Note: While speaking about this incident with my daughter, she asked a simple yet arresting question: If Allah does not value gold as people do, then out of what did He make all existence? The question stayed with me. I turned it over in my heart again and again, yet no clear answer came. Then one day, by Allah’s grace, my murshid came to me in a dream and answered what my mind could not resolve. He said that Allah has made all existence out of love and compassion. When I awoke, those words remained with me. And the more I reflected on them, the more they seemed to echo through creation itself. Perhaps that is why one finds affinity, attraction, and subtle harmony even in the smallest hidden structures of the world, down to the subatomic particles themselves.
Lesson 5:
Once there was a farmer living in the rural outskirts, and he owned several dogs. These dogs would laze around by the roadside and would only become alert when a car or a motorbike would pass by. Hearing the sound of an engine, they would become instantly alert and pursue the vehicle, barking loudly. They would keep chasing it until a certain point on the road, then stop, return to their original positions, and lie in wait for the next one.
A wise woman passing through the village asked the farmer:
"What do these dogs hope to achieve?"
The farmer replied:
"I know, it seems rather futile, and a waste of time. But they have been like this since as far back as I can remember. And is it so strange? Don't all dogs do this?"
The woman continued:
"What they do has the potential of harming the dogs themselves, or the riders, especially if it is a motorbike rider. And they do raise quite a din as well"
The farmer apologetically said:
"Is it the noise that is bothering you?"
The woman rather enigmatically quipped:
"Well yes, that, and also what will they do if they actually catch up with a vehicle? What is it worth to them?"
Source Note
The accounts of Dhul-Nun, Harun al-Rashid’s son, Baba Dawood Khaki, and Taptuk Emre are presented as devotional narratives. Their miraculous details have not been independently verified. The Yunus Emre passage is explicitly a dramatic retelling. The author’s closing dream is a personal spiritual reflection.
