Tag: prayer

  • Similarity Between Light and Prayer

    I’ve often tried to explain my views about destiny, or fate as many like to call it. In a recent conversation with a friend, we touched on the subject of prayer and it led me to again consider my views about the purpose of prayer if destiny is supposedly pre-written in line with the mainstream views of destiny. In other words, is my fate sealed because the outcomes have been decided regardless of my actions, or are we simply missing the point? That’s when the similarities between prayer and a typical beam of light occurred to me.

    A normal beam of light will simply light up an object, whereas a slightly more intense beam of light will possibly heat it up. Yet an even more intense beam of light could change the shape of the object, or even cut through the object, if not entirely incinerate the object. So it stands to reason that just existence of something is not necessarily a finite definition of its purpose or impact.

    I think the same is true with prayer. If said lightly and without conviction, it serves a limited purpose, if any at all, like those solar powered garden lights that light up nothing more than the casing in which they exist. For the same reason, I believe the prayer of the oppressed person is so much more powerful, because the oppressed person usually turns to Allah at a point when they’ve given up reliance on anything and anyone else. So the intensity, sincerity and conviction with which they pray results in it triggering those effects that Allah has already ‘configured’ in this universal law that governs our existence, often referred to as fate, or destiny, or taqdeer. Hence there being no need for Allah to directly intervene, because these laws that Allah has established already intervenes simply because Allah said ‘Be’, and it is. So trust that handhold that you have with Allah, and stop doubting it. The doubts weaken our prayer while the trust strengthens it.

  • Prayer vs Life

    I’ve often thought of the difference between salaah and life as being similar to our experiences in the school assembly. When we were in school standing in the assembly area waiting for the principal to address us, I used to take comfort in the fact that I was among a crowd and therefore not the centre of attention. I didn’t really worry about the principal seeing my shirt hanging out of my pants, or my hair being dishevelled, or perhaps that I was chewing gum. But if for some reason the principal called out my name and asked me to go to the front and meet him at the podium, I would suddenly find myself in a panic stricken state straightening my shirt, neatening my hair and trying to get rid of the gum I was chewing. Suddenly, the need to comply with the behaviour and standards that he set for us became important, but only because I knew he was now looking directly at me, which meant I was no longer hidden by the crowd.

    That, to me, is the equivalent of our daily lives relative to the moments we take for salaah. While we’re going about our daily business, we’re among the crowd, distracted by the activities we’re chewing on and forgetting that our actions are still as visible as always to Allah, unlike the principal that could only ever focus on a single student at a time. But when we make salaah, if we do it consciously and not out of habit or ritual, we immediately become aware of the fact that we’re now specifically presenting ourselves to Allah and not just existing in Allah’s general presence (so to speak). But if we don’t see this difference in purpose and focus, it becomes difficult to feel different towards our connection with Allah in salaah compared to out of salaah. In other words, the chances of us contaminating our salaah with thoughts of the daily grind are that much higher.

    I think if we are able to hone our focus during salaah, we’ll find that your focus on the detail of life outside of salaah will also improve. I think such a shift in focus will lead to an overall improved disposition resulting in a more mindful existence where every action and every deed becomes an act of worship, not because we do it in Allah’s name, but because we will then be able to go beyond that simple realisation and in fact link our actions with our desired state in the hereafter.

    There is nothing that we do that doesn’t either bring us closer to Allah, or take us further away from Him. When we assume that there are some actions that are neutral in all this, that’s when we’ll find ourselves drifting away without realising it, until we’re jolted out of our complacency (usually because of a trial or tribulation that interrupts our daydream) before we realise that that supposedly harmless action or endeavour was in fact detrimental to our faith.

  • Raising One’s Hands in Dua

    Amongst the etiquette of du’a that is known by all Muslims, young or old, is that of raising one’s hands. Abu Musa al-Ashari, may Allah be pleased with him, narrated:

    “The Prophet, peace be upon him, made du’a, and I saw him raise his hands, until I could see the whiteness of his armpits.” (Recorded in al-Bukhari)

    Further, Saman al-Farsi, may Allah be pleased with him, narrated that the Prophet, peace be upon him, said:

    “Indeed, Allah is Shy and Beneficient. He is Shy when His servant raises his hands to Him (in du’a) to return them empty, disappointed!” (Recorded in Ahmad)

    SubhanAllah! The Lord of the Creation feels Shy when one of His servants lifts his hands up to Him to make du’a! Verily, hearts are filled with love and awe at the Generosity and Beneficence of Allah.

    It is important that our palms face upwards, and not the back of one’s hands, because it is not befitting to ask with the palms facing down, which is a sign of arrogance.

    There are three different types of motions for du’a that are narrated from the Companions. The first type is to point one’s forefinger without necessarily lifting one’s hands. This action is done when one asks for forgiveness, or makes general dhikr or during tashahhud. The second type is to raise one’s hands to the level of one’s shoulders with the palms facing up. This is done for regular dua’s at any time. The last type of action is only done in extremely severe circumstances, such as asking for rain after drought, or seeking protection from imminent enemy attack. In this case the hands are stretched forth towards the sky, without joining the two palms together. When this is done a person’s armpits are exposed due to the severity of stretching.

    The general rule is that one raises one’s hands to make du’a, but there are exceptions. The Prophet, peace and blessings of Allah be upon him, did not raise his hands during the Friday khutbah. So for the du’a during the khutbah, it is not Sunnah for the Imam or the people to raise their hands, except if the Imam makes a special prayer for rain. It is also not a Sunnah to raise one’s hands for the various du’as throughout the day.

    As to the exact manner in which one’s hands should be raised, it is to the level of the shoulders, hands placed together, with palms towards the sky or one’s own face. The wiping of the face with the hands will be discussed in a later post, inshaAllah.

  • In trying to maintain my focus in salaah, I often find myself trying to picture myself standing directly in front of Allah. But given my lack of knowledge regarding what image should be conjured in my mind from such a thought, I’m left with a feeling that me, being a minuscule molecule on a dust ball in the middle of a universe that teems with magnificence well beyond our arrogant imaginations, am not able to present myself before Allah, but only to Allah; whilst Allah, in His infinite grandeur and majesty, is greater than what we can grasp of this universe while others debate what His true form is. Since this universe is part of the created, how much greater must the Creator be?

    I consider the scale of creation that allows me to observe the tiniest known particles of creation, and then I consider how much unimaginably greater the scale must be between me and Allah. My nafs will always prevent me from grasping the true meekness of my existence, yet despite this, I have the promise of bliss that even the most elaborate of imaginations will fail to grasp.

    I’m often reminded of the description of just the dust of Jannah the beauty of which will leave us standing and marvelling at it for 40 years. That’s just the dust. I cannot imagine myself beholding a piece of dust with such amazement that I would be entranced by it for 40 earthly years, let alone 40 heavenly ones. How futile must it be then to attempt to contemplate the beauty of Jannah or the magnificence of Allah?

  • culturalcrosspollination:

    A lone worshiper in a mosque in Isfahan, Iran

  • I’m in a strange mood this evening. This simple yet serene photo brought tears to my eyes. The humble act of worship defines us in its simplicity, yet it’s the greatest demand ever placed on our egos. I cannot worship if I consider myself to be godly by nature. But I cannot submit if I consider submission to be a weakness either.

    I dream of peace.

    (Source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/emre44/6410407749/)

  • I pray that Allah protects others from me, and me from myself, InshaAllah.

  • arabculture:

    mosque in bahrain.

    (Source: http://www.arabculture.tubmlr.com)