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In a time when blaring headlines have drowned out silent truths, and in a world where images blur and voices intertwine until they are indistinguishable, there remain some scenes more eloquent than any statement: children being exterminated in Gaza, others sleeping atop the rubble of their homes, mothers being killed or bidding farewell to their beloved children beneath the fire of bombardment, and elders with trembling hands wiping tears from withered cheeks. No one among us listens to the groaning of the earth, nor gathers the scattered fragments of pain spilled across the skies. Oh, the tormented bodies and the bloodied hearts calling out: how vast death is—it offers rest! But where is safety and peace when destruction itself has been decreed?

Amidst these harrowing scenes that even our bodies feel too constricted to contain, a question echoes painfully through the heart: to whom do we turn? Who remains for us when those close betray and those distant forsake us? We have been repulsed by the outward behaviour of our allies and kin, and what lies hidden in their chests is even more repulsive.

The answer comes from the depths of pure instinct, from faith unextinguished by political storms, unspoiled by the scales of worldly interest: we turn to God, we seek His help, and upon Him we rely. He is the refuge when all paths narrow, He is justice when justice is absent on earth.

Palestine is not merely an Arab wound, nor a “cause” to be presented at conferences and forgotten in sterile offices. It is the mirror reflecting the condition of this Ummah, the scale of its dignity, the test of its patience and faith. While the world may tire of images of blood and grow weary of the spectres of ruin, God never tires of the groan of the oppressed, nor does He reject the plea of the broken-hearted.

In a moment of contemplation, we remember that God commanded us to seek help through patience and prayer in times of hardship: “O you who believe, seek help through patience and prayer”, and then reassured us: “Indeed, God is with the patient.”

This divine accompaniment is no mere slogan—it is a truthful promise from the Lord. It is not decided by conferences nor issued through statements, but realised when the heart remains steadfast, when limbs persevere, when those in the field do not betray their trust. So let us bow to our Lord in the daytime and prostrate to Him; and if we are able to stand in the night, let us stand. All creation glorifies and sanctifies its Lord—let us understand the tasbīḥ and takbīr of the echoing mountains and singing birds.

In this ever-shifting age, many concepts have become confused. Among the worst of these confusions is the belief held by some that knowledge and piety are cloaks for emotional numbness, a pretext to deny human nature. As if the scholar is not allowed to love, or to weep, or to feel weakness. As if the devout is not permitted to laugh or to breathe as others do.

These people have forgotten that the noble Companions—though the most God-fearing of all people—laughed and wept, were angered and pleased, loved and grieved. They were not prophets, but human beings in whom the sanctity of spirit and truth of emotion were manifest.

Excessive suppression of feeling in the name of piety may breed generations of the emotionally dead, and may strip religion of its humane essence. What is ḥalāl remains ḥalāl, and what is ḥarām remains ḥarām—no one is permitted to forbid what God has not forbidden, nor to dress harshness in the garb of sacredness. Glorified is the Almighty, the One.

We name ourselves out of ignorance as ʿAbd al-Raḥīm, ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, ʿAbd al-Ṣamad, but we have not reached the level of being true servants. Then the nations have rallied against us like diners around a bowl.

Amidst the world’s complicity, our inner weakness, and the confusion of stances, the believer can only raise his hands to the heavens, calling out to his Creator: “O God, do not leave us to any of Your creation, nor to our own selves, nor to the nations that have forsaken us. You are our Lord—we know no other Lord besides You. You are the Creator of paths when all doors are shut.”

Our supplication today is not a sign of weakness—it is faith. Our tears are not defeat—they are acts of worship. The believer does not despair, for he has a Lord who says: “We want to favour those who were oppressed in the land, and make them leaders and inheritors.” And God never breaks His promise.

What is taking place in Palestine and in other Muslim lands is not merely a political event or passing crisis—it is a moral and spiritual benchmark. It reveals the true worth of people, the sincerity of loyalties, and redefines concepts such as piety, scrupulousness, support, prayer, and hope.

So, to you who feel this pain—do not despair. To you who have nothing but your heart and tongue—call out to your Lord. And to you who await victory—be certain that “God is with the patient”, and that relief is near, even if the road is long.

In a time of betrayal, be the voice of conscience, the pulse of human nature, and of those who, when God is mentioned, their hearts tremble, and when calamity descends, they say: “God is sufficient for us, and He is the best disposer of affairs.”

https://t.me/DrAkramNadwi/6234

Disclaimer: This article was translated by AI. Original post: https://t.me/DrAkramNadwi/6234