Patience

In Muslim tradition, the beginning of a new year is an occasion for reflection and remembrance. We remember past experiences, especially experiences of transition like the landing of Noah's ark, Abraham's departure from his father's house, or the exodus of the Children of Israel from Egypt. But it is also an occasion to remember and learn from the more tangible past: from experiences in one's own life and in the history of the community. Already in the time of the Prophet Muhammad, a new year started with reflection, prayer and fasting.

As human beings, we do not always find it easy to look at the past in a balanced critical way. The temptation is there to confuse history with the epic narrative of the glorious achievements of our famous ancestors, leaving aside or justifying facts that we can be less proud of. It is more diffucult to confront those darker moments and to benefit from the lessons that they can teach us. An example is one of the most severe trials in early Muslim history: the martyrdom of the Prophet's grandson Husayn on the tenth day of the month Muharram. Committed to the values and visions taught and exemplified by his grandfather, he refused allegiance to injustice and was therefore ambushed and killed by the ruler's troops. Not by any ruler, not by any troops like in the story of Pharaoh and his army, but by a ruler who considered himself the Caliph of the Prophet Muhammad and by troops who were Muslims - by people who would be expected to have some respect for the Prophet's grandson and the values he stood up for or at least to refer any disagreement "to God and His Messenger", that is, to the principles presented in the Qur'an and by the prophetic paradigm. The story takes us to an uncomfortable decisive point between comfortably siding with those who happen to be in power and enjoying the advantages they might be able to offer us on one hand and the path of commitment to justice and human responsibility and dignity on the other. It does not make things easier when tyrannic violence is committed in the name of our own religion

Among the many lessons of of the story, the remembrance of which is highly emotionally charged, is the key concept sabr.

The Arabic word is sometimes translated as patience. This is partially correct - unless patience is understood as a completely passive attitude as if it were about waiting until something happens without being actively involved at all. At the same time it can well be applied in situations when nothing much can be done and the point is to bear pain and grief. The Qur'an illustrates this point with an allusion to the story of Job who loses his property and his children without any fault of his own: this bitter experience and the feeling of utter helplessness against the disasters that strike him raise many challenging questions about God's justice and mercy, but Job does not give up his faith.

It is sometimes translated as steadfastness. This is partially correct - unless steadfastness is confused with being stiffnecked and stubbornly insisting on an opinion without considering what sense it makes. The Qur'an illustrates this point with an allusion to the story of Pharaoh's wife who is pointed out as "an example for the faithful": in spite of her husband's murderous intentions, she brings up the baby Moses and we get a glimpse of the everyday risk of this in her prayer, "My Creator and Sustainer, build a home for me in Your presence in the Garden and deliver me from Pharaoh and his machinations and deliver me from the unjust people."

It is sometimes translated as constancy. This is partially correct - unless constancy is confused with rigidity and inflexibility. The Qur'an illustrates this point with the story of Jacob: he clearly feels that he cannot trust his sons as they tell him about their brother Joseph's disappearance but knows at the same time that he is unable to find out the truth at this point in time, so he says, "There remains only beautiful patience". In spite of his loss and his bitter disappointment with his sons' behaviour he never gives up hope, and when the brothers travel to Egypt he asks them to try the seemingly impossible: to find news about Joseph's fate.

The term sabr contains all these aspects. It comprises a lively wakefulness, a keen awareness of what is happening beyond pain, grief and anger and the courage to start all over again after a defeat or a disaster, even in those dark days where the vision seems to be lost. It is linked with sincere intentions and trust: God is with those who are patient.

The freedom and responsibility of human life is not somethig smooth and comfortable. We constantly have to make moral choices that might not always be as serious and far-reaching as those of Husayn and the men and women around him but grave enough for life to be considered a test, a constant challenge for how we handle the gifts and tasks that are entrusted to us. Husayn lived and died for what he had faith in. We belong to God, and to Him we will return. The men and women around him overcame the pain of the loss and resisted the oppression and persecution they were exposed to and patiently continued to work for the values of justice and humanity that they felt responsible for, trusting that human life is not about the survival of the fittest but about the survival of the ethically valuable.

You whose light overcomes darkness; You whose holiness enlightens the rugged ravines; You before whom all beings in the heavens and the earth prostrate themselves; You to whom every raving tyrant must bow in obedience; You who knows the secret recesses of the human conscience; You whose mercy and knowledge comprise all things: forgive those who return to You and follow Your way, protect them from the suffering of the Fire and hasten to help and support them.

The supplication was transmitted from Hasan Askari.

(c) Halima Krausen, 2007