mother

My Mother’s Day!

A beautiful story that highlights the elevated place parents hold in Islam.

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My Mother’s Day!

“I love you, mom,” whispered Yusuf as he wrapped the soft pashmina shawl around his mother’s shoulders. The vibrant peach contrasted with the dark rings that had grown under her eyes lately, but their brightness had not faded.

Her eyes lit up as she stroked the delicate embroidery on the edge of the shawl, “And this…Yusuf?”

Yusuf looked at her with the excitement of a young boy unpacking his first bicycle, “Wait ma…there’s more,” he cried, as he removed a burgundy jewellery box. Presenting it in front of his mother, like they were the crown jewels, he gingerly lifted the lid to reveal a string of exquisite cultured pearls, delicately strung together with small black pearls breaking the shimmer of the white pearls.

“Yusuf!” exclaimed his mother, her eyes brimming, “What’s all this?”

Yusuf stepped back and looked at his mother holding the pearl necklace close to her chest, admiring it, “Mom, always wanted a pearl necklace….”

“But it must have cost you a small fortune,” said Saffiyah as she held the pearls up to the light, studying the delicate changes of colour as she turned the necklace, “Why now…what’s special?”

“It’s my mother’s day!” he beamed.

“Er..,” began Saffiyah as she craned her neck to look at the calendar behind her, “But it’s not mother’s day. Not for a while, yet?” a puzzled look settling on her face.

“I didn’t say it was Mother’s day,” replied Yusuf, “I said it was MY mother’s day. But let me explain….”

“You remember I told you about Nasser who recently moved here from the coast?”

Saffiyah nodded in acknowledgement.

“Last night I met him at Sheikh’s program and asked him why he always begged sheikh for duas. I just found it strange that he would always insist that Sheikh make dua for him. He gave me an odd reply – he asked me if my mother was alive, and if I had fifteen minutes. I confirmed that I had both. We sat at the back of the masjid and he told me his story.”

Yusuf paused to pour some tea, adding a sugar to each cup, handing one to his mother he continued, “Nasser told me that since his door of dua (supplication) had closed a long time ago, he had to seek another door for dua. Not understanding, I asked him what he meant. He was silent for a long time, and I thought perhaps I said something wrong, but he just looked at me and smiled. Wiping a tear from his eye he told me that his mother passed away when he was only five years old. He said that he could still remember the smell of her hair after she washed it, but remembered little else.”

Yusuf watched his mother sipping her tea and noticed just how wrinkled her hands had become, the gold wedding ring still sat gracefully on her ring finger. She always took pride in grooming her nails, buffing them to a perfect shine.

“After Nasser’s mother passed away he lived in the care of his aunties. They were good to him and cared for him as one of their own. They bought him what he needed and he had much of what he needed. Then he told me “You know, Joe, no one can replace the embrace of a mother. And no one can replace the dua (prayer) of a mother. I lost that dua a long time ago.” Then I thought of all the duas you make for me – how often when I rush out of the house you always say, “Yusuf, slow down, Allah Ta’ala be with you!” “Allah Hafiz.” “Yusuf, may Allah Ta’ala make your children the coolness of your eye.”

“Ma…I never really cherished those duas until I heard Nasser’s story,” said Yusuf, dabbing his eye with a tissue, “I never knew that those were treasures beyond measure. And then it made some sense to me of what Sheikh said when he quoted Abdulla Ibn ‘Abbas (RA), “If any Muslim obeys Allah regarding his parents, Allah will open two gates of the Garden for him. If there is only one parent, then one gate will be opened. If one of them is angry, then Allah will not be pleased with him until that parent is pleased with him.”

“And when Nasser told me – ‘Joe (as Yusuf was referred to by his friends), you know, I will never be able to call anyone in this world Mum, and I will never know the embrace of a mother. You still have it, Joe, value it, treasure it,’ I realised that what Allah had favoured me with was something so special that I couldn’t just celebrate it once a year and call it mother’s day. I decided that from now MY Mother’s day will be Every Day! – Yesterday, today and tomorrow will all be mother’s day. I can never repay you, but I know the heart of a mother asks for no repayment. And…if I can do nothing else for my mother’s day then I will at least thank Allah that he allowed my door of dua to be open for one more day.”

“Forgive me ma…..” Yusuf choked, “I need to do so much more for you….”

Saffiyah clasped his hands and stroked his face, “You are a good son, Yusuf, Allah Ta’ala will grant you lots of goodness in this world and the next.”

By Abdur Rahmaan Umar
eislam

(shared on Sunniforum)

Women in Islam – Are Women Inferior to Men? Part III: The Standard

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The following piece is by Yasmeen Mogahed:

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A Woman’s Reflection on Leading Prayer

On March 18, 2005, Amina Wadud led the first female-led jum`ah (Friday) prayer. On that day, women took a huge step towards being more like men. But did we come closer to actualizing our God-given liberation?

I don’t think so.

What we so often forget is that God has honored the woman by giving her value in relation to God—not in relation to men. But as Western feminism erases God from the scene, there is no standard left—except men. As a result, the Western feminist is forced to find her value in relation to a man. And in so doing, she has accepted a faulty assumption. She has accepted that man is the standard, and thus a woman can never be a full human being until she becomes just like a man.

When a man cut his hair short, she wanted to cut her hair short. When a man joined the army, she wanted to join the army. She wanted these things for no other reason than because the “standard” had it.

What she didn’t recognize was that God dignifies both men and women in their distinctiveness – not their sameness. And on March 18, Muslim women made the very same mistake.

For 1400 years there has been a consensus of the scholars that men are to lead prayer. As a Muslim woman, why does this matter? The one who leads prayer is not spiritually superior in any way. Something is not better just because a man does it. And leading prayer is not better, just because it’s leading. Had it been the role of women or had it been more divine, why wouldn’t the Prophet ﷺ have asked Ayesha or Khadija, or Fatima—the greatest women of all time—to lead? These women were promised heaven—and yet they never led prayer.

But now, for the first time in 1400 years, we look at a man leading prayer and we think, “That’s not fair.” We think so although God has given no special privilege to the one who leads. The imam is no higher in the eyes of God than the one who prays behind.

On the other hand, only a woman can be a mother. And God has given special privilege to a mother. The Prophet ﷺ taught us that heaven lies at the feet of mothers. But no matter what a man does he can never be a mother. So why is that not unfair?

When asked, “Who is most deserving of our kind treatment?” the Prophet ﷺ replied, “Your mother” three times before saying “your father” only once. Is that sexist? No matter what a man does he will never be able to have the status of a mother.
And yet, even when God honors us with something uniquely feminine, we are too busy trying to find our worth in reference to men to value it—or even notice. We, too, have accepted men as the standard; so anything uniquely feminine is, by definition, inferior. Being sensitive is an insult, becoming a mother—a degradation. In the battle between stoic rationality (considered masculine) and selfless compassion (considered feminine), rationality reigns supreme.

As soon as we accept that everything a man has and does is better, all that follows is a knee-jerk reaction: if men have it, we want it too. If men pray in the front rows, we assume this is better, so we want to pray in the front rows too. If men lead prayer, we assume the imam is closer to God, so we want to lead prayer too. Somewhere along the line we’ve accepted the notion that having a position of worldly leadership is some indication of one’s position with God.

A Muslim woman does not need to degrade herself in this way. She has God as a standard. She has God to give her value; she doesn’t need a man.

In fact, in our crusade to follow men, we as women never even stopped to examine the possibility that what we have is better for us. In some cases we even gave up what was higher only to be like men.

Fifty years ago, society told us that men were superior because they left the home to work in factories. We were mothers. And yet, we were told that it was women’s liberation to abandon the raising of another human being in order to work on a machine. We accepted that working in a factory was superior to raising the foundation of society—just because a man did it.

Then, after working, we were expected to be superhuman—the perfect mother, the perfect wife, the perfect homemaker—and have the perfect career. And while there is nothing wrong, by definition, with a woman having a career, we soon came to realize what we had sacrificed by blindly mimicking men. We watched as our children became strangers and soon recognized the privilege we’d given up.

And so only now—given the choice—women in the West are choosing to stay home to raise their children. According to the United States Department of Agriculture, only 31 percent of mothers with babies, and 18 percent of mothers with two or more children, are working full-time. And of those working mothers, a survey conducted by Parenting Magazine in 2000, found that 93% of them say they would rather be at home with their kids, but are compelled to work due to ‘financial obligations.’ These ‘obligations’ are imposed on women by the gender sameness of the modern West, and removed from women by the gender distinctiveness of Islam.

It took women in the West almost a century of experimentation to realize a privilege given to Muslim women 1400 years ago.

Given my privilege as a woman, I only degrade myself by trying to be something I’m not – and in all honesty – don’t want to be: a man. As women, we will never reach true liberation until we stop trying to mimic men, and value the beauty in our own God-given distinctiveness.

If given a choice between stoic justice and compassion, I choose compassion. And if given a choice between worldly leadership and heaven at my feet—I choose heaven.

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Peace to you all.