What do I owe to a man who brought so much good to this world?
My days and nights revolve around what he has taught me, though I have never seen him.
I wake from sleep to the same call that his companion made so many years ago, standing atop the House that I face in my prayers. I raise my hands the way he taught me, and recite the words that flow lightly over my tongue, though they are heavy. Those Words made him sweat even on the coldest day.
I smile in the faces of my loved ones because he taught me that it's charity. So too is helping people carry their things, cheering up a friend, and removing harmful objects from the path where people walk. I try to do all of these too.
I try, also, to see that what truly remains is what I give away, not what I keep. He taught me this.
When I'm angry, I trap the vile words that threaten to explode out of me, because he praised the one who does this.
Most importantly, he taught me about my Creator. He taught me that nothing is like Him, and that He possesses all the attributes of perfection. My Creator is Kind, Generous, and Just. He taught me that when I remember God, He remembers me. This is so amazing that I can't fully understand it.
This man's name means the praised one. This is very fitting, because he is praised by God and the angels and the believers. His manners were beautiful, truly praiseworthy.
Though he was connected to the heavens, he was refreshingly human. He wept at the deaths of his loved ones. He forgave his uncle's killer, but asked to never see his face again. He joked with his wife on his death bed.
With his passing, that connection to the heavens was severed. But the Words live on, and the book of his life lives on.
Many hungrily read the Words he was so hated for. And many others place them on a high shelf, away from their eyes, too dazzled by the beauty of this world to remember them. There are others still who desperately need the Words for their parched hearts, but they do not know.
I long to meet my teacher. For now, though, I send peace and blessings upon the Messenger.
(March 2018)
My days and nights revolve around what he has taught me, though I have never seen him.
I wake from sleep to the same call that his companion made so many years ago, standing atop the House that I face in my prayers. I raise my hands the way he taught me, and recite the words that flow lightly over my tongue, though they are heavy. Those Words made him sweat even on the coldest day.
I smile in the faces of my loved ones because he taught me that it's charity. So too is helping people carry their things, cheering up a friend, and removing harmful objects from the path where people walk. I try to do all of these too.
I try, also, to see that what truly remains is what I give away, not what I keep. He taught me this.
When I'm angry, I trap the vile words that threaten to explode out of me, because he praised the one who does this.
Most importantly, he taught me about my Creator. He taught me that nothing is like Him, and that He possesses all the attributes of perfection. My Creator is Kind, Generous, and Just. He taught me that when I remember God, He remembers me. This is so amazing that I can't fully understand it.
This man's name means the praised one. This is very fitting, because he is praised by God and the angels and the believers. His manners were beautiful, truly praiseworthy.
Though he was connected to the heavens, he was refreshingly human. He wept at the deaths of his loved ones. He forgave his uncle's killer, but asked to never see his face again. He joked with his wife on his death bed.
With his passing, that connection to the heavens was severed. But the Words live on, and the book of his life lives on.
Many hungrily read the Words he was so hated for. And many others place them on a high shelf, away from their eyes, too dazzled by the beauty of this world to remember them. There are others still who desperately need the Words for their parched hearts, but they do not know.
I long to meet my teacher. For now, though, I send peace and blessings upon the Messenger.
(March 2018)
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