Part I, Chapter III

Exemplary conduct

The Prophet of Islam, Mohammad (may peace be upon him), was born in Arabia on 22 April 571 AD, and died on 8 June 632 AD. He was a very handsome and powerfully built man. His childhood gave indications of the sublime and dynamic personality that was to emerge. As he grew up, the grandeur of his personality used to overawe anyone beholding him, but he was so soft-spoken and of such genial disposition that anyone coming into close contact with him would learn to love him. A perfectly balanced personality—tolerant, truthful, perspicacious and magnanimous—he presented the noblest example of human greatness. Daud Ibn Husain says that it was commonly said about him that as he grew older, he became known as the most chivalrous among his people, neighbourly, tolerant and forebearing, truthful and trustworthy. He would stay aloof from all quarrels and quibbles, from foul utterances, abuse and invective. People left their valuables in his custody, for they knew that he would never betray them. His unimpeachable trustworthiness won for him the title of “AI-Amin,” a faithful custodian, an unfailing trustee.

When he married at the age of twenty-five, his uncle Abu Talib performed the marriage service. “There is no one to compare with my nephew, Mohammad Ibn Abdullah,” he said. “He outshines everyone in nobility, gentility, eminence and wisdom. By God, he has a great future and will reach a very high station.” Abu Talib did not utter these words in the sense in which later events proved them to be true. He meant them in a worldly sense. Nature had endowed his nephew with a magnetic and versatile personality. His people would surely appreciate his qualities, and raise him to a high station. Abu Talib envisaged a future of worldly success and accomplishment of his nephew; this was the “great future” which he referred to in his sermon.

Without doubt the Prophet had every opportunity for worldly advance. His virtues guaranteed his success in life. He was born into a noble family of Makkah. True, he had inherited just one camel and one servant from his father, but his inborn high qualities had impressed the richest woman in Makkah. Her name was Khadija, a forty-year-old widow belonging to a family of merchants. When the Prophet was twenty-five, she offered herself to him in marriage. Not only did marriage with Khadija provide the Prophet with wealth and property; it threw open to him a vast field of business in Arabia and beyond. The Prophet had every opportunity, then, of leading a successful and comfortable life. But he forsook all these things and chose something quite different for himself. Quite intentionally, he took a road that could only lead to worldly ruin. Before his marriage, the Prophet had earned his living in different ways. Now he relinquished all that, and dedicated himself to his lifelong vocation—the pursuit of truth. He used to sit for hours and ponder over the mysteries of creation. Instead of socializing and trying to gain a position for himself among the nobles of Makkah, he would wander in the hills and vales of the desert. Often he used to retire to the loneliness of a cave in Mount Hira—three miles from Makkah—and stay there until his meagre supply of food and water was exhausted. He would return home to replenish his supplies, and then go back to the solitude of nature for prayer and meditation. He would beseech the Maker of the heavens and the earth for answers to the questions surging in his mind. What is man’s true role in life? What does Lord require of us, as His servants? When does man come and whether will he go after death? Unable to find answers to these questions in the centres of human activity, he betook himself to the stillness of the desert; perhaps, there, the answer would be forthcoming.

It was no small matter that a young man should be taking up this course in the prime of his life. He was renouncing worldly happiness and choosing a way fraught with difficulties and sorrow. He had all conceivable means and opportunities for a comfortable life, but his turbulent soul did not find satisfaction in them. He attached no value to them and could not rest content until he had unraveled the mysteries of life. He sought to delve beyond external appearances, and seek out the reality of life. Worldly gain and loss, comfort and distress, did not concern him; what mattered to him was the all-important question of truth and falsehood.

This phase of the Prophet’s life has been described in these words in the Quran:

“Did He not find you wandering and guide you?” (93:7)

The word used in this verse for “wandering” (“dhalan”) can also be used to describe a tree standing alone in an empty desert. The Prophet, then, was like a lone tree standing amidst the vast wilderness of ignorance that was Arabia of the time. The idea of consolidating his position in this society was abhorrent to him. He sought the truth, and nothing less than the truth, could satisfy his soul. His quest had reached a point when life had become an unbearable burden. The Quran looks back on that time and describes it in these words.

“Have We not lifted up and expanded your heart and relieved you of the burden which weighed down your back?” (94:1)

God, indeed, relieved him of his burden. He turned in mercy to His Prophet, illuminating his path and guiding him on his journey. On February 12, 610 AD, the Prophet was sitting alone in his cave. The angel of the Lord appeared before him in human form and taught him the words which appear at the beginning of the ninety-six chapter of the Quran. The Prophet’s quest had finally been rewarded. His restless soul had joined in communion with the Lord. Not only did God grant him guidance; He also chose Mohammad as His Prophet and special envoy to the world. The mission of the Prophet extended over the next twenty-three years. During this period the entire content of the Quran—the final divine scripture—was revealed to him.

The Prophet of Islam discovered Truth in the fourtieth year of his arduous life. It was an attainment that was not to usher in ease and comfort, for this Truth was that man stood face to face with an Almighty God. It was the discovery of his own helplessness before the might of God, of his own nothingness before the supernatural magnitude of the Almighty. With this discovery it became clear that God’s faithful servant had nothing but responsibilities in this world; he had no rights.

The meaning that life took on for the Prophet after the Truth came to him can be ascertained from these words:

Nine things the Lord has commanded me.

Fear of God in private and in public;

Justness, whether in anger or in calmness;

Moderation in both poverty and affluence;

That I should join hands with those who break away from me;

and give to those who deprive me;

and forgive those who wrong me;

and that my silence should be meditation;

and my words remembrance of God;

and my vision keen observation.

     Razin

These were not just glib words; they were a reflection of the Prophet’s very life. Poignant and wondrously effective words of this nature could not emanate from an empty soul; they themselves indicate the status of the speaker; they are an outpouring of his inner being, and unquenchable spirit revealed in verbal form.

Even before the dawn of his prophethood, the Prophet’s life had followed the same pattern. The motivation, however, had been subconscious; now it came on to the level of consciousness. Actions which had previously been based on instinctive impulses now became the well-conceived results of profound thinking. This is the state of one who reduces material needs to a minimum; whose life assumes a different pattern from that of others; who in body lives in this world, but in spirit dwells on another plane.

The Prophet once said:

A discerning person should have some special moments:

a moment of communion with God;

a moment of self-examination;

a moment of reflection over the mysteries of creation;

and a moment which he puts aside for eating and drinking.

     (Ibn Hibban)

In other words, this is how God’s faithful servant passes the day. Sometimes the yearning of his soul brings him so close to God that he finds something in communion with the Lord. Sometimes fear of the day when he will be brought before the Lord for reckoning makes him reckon with himself. Sometimes he is so overawed by the marvels of God’s creation that he starts seeing the splendours of the Creator reflected therein. Thus, he spends his time encountering the Lord, his own self, and the world around him, also finding some time to cater for his physical needs.

These words are not a description of some remote being; they are a reflection of the Prophet’s own personality, a flash from the light of faith that illuminated his own heart. These “moments” were a part and parcel of the Prophet’s life. One who has not experienced these states can never describe them in such a lofty manner. The soul from which these words emanated was itself in the state that they describe; through words that state of spiritual perfection was communicated to others.

Before he received the word of God, this world—with all its shortcomings and limitations—appeared meaningless to the Prophet. But now that God had revealed to him that besides this world there was another perfect and eternal world, which was the real abode of man, life and the universe took on new meaning. He now found a level on which his soul could subsist, a life in which he could involve himself, heart and soul. The Prophet now found a real world into which he could put his heart and soul, a target for all his hopes and aspirations, a goal for all his life’s endeavours.

This is what is meant by the world being a planting-ground for the hereafter. One who realizes this fact lives a life oriented towards the hereafter—a life in which all efforts are aimed at achieving success in the next, eternal world; a life in which real value is attached—not to this ephemeral world—but to the life beyond death. One becomes aware that this world is not the final destination; it is only a road towards the destination, a starting-point of preparation for the future life. Just as every action of a person of the world is performed with worldly interests in mind, so every action of God’s faithful servant is focused on the hereafter. His reactions to every situation in life reflect this attitude of looking at every matter in perspective of the life after death, and of how it will affect his interests in the next world. Whether it be an occasion of happiness or sorrow, success or failure, domination or depression, praise or condemnation, love or anger—in every state he is guided by thoughts of hereafter, until finally these thoughts become a part of his unconscious mind. He does not cease to be a mortal, but his mind comes to function only on matters related to the world of immortality, making him almost forget his interest in worldly matters.

This reality is discovered not merely on an intellectual level. When it takes root, it transforms one completely, and raises one’s level of existence. The Prophet of Islam provides us with a superlative example of this way of life. The greatest lesson furnished by his life is that, unless one changes one’s plane of existence, one cannot change one’s plane of actions.

When the Prophet Mohammad discovered the reality of the world hereafter it came to dominate his whole life. He himself became most desirous of the heaven of which he gave tidings to others, and he himself was most fearful of the hell of which he warned others. Deep concern for the life to come was always welling up inside him. Sometimes it would surge to his lips in the form of supplication, and sometimes in the form of heartfelt contrition. He lived on a completely different plane from ordinary human beings. This is illustrated by many incidents, of which a few are mentioned here.

Once the Prophet was at home with Umm Salma. He called maid-servant, who took some time in coming. Seeing signs of anger on the Prophet’s face, Umm Salma went to the window and looked outside. She saw the maid playing. The Prophet had a twig in his hand. “If it wasn’t for the fear of the retribution on the Day of Judgement,” he told the maid. “then I would have hit you with this twig.” Even this mildest of punishments was to be eschewed.        

The men taken prisoner in the Battle of Badr were the Prophet’s bitterest enemies, but still his treatment of them was impeccable. One of these prisoners was a man by the name of Suhail Ibn Amr. A fiery speaker, he used to denounce the Prophet virulently in public to incite people against him and his mission. Umar suggested that two of his lower teeth be pulled out to dampen his oratorical zeal. The Prophet was shocked by Umar’s suggestion. “God would disfigure me for this on the Day of Judgement, even though I am His Messenger,” he said to Umar. □