Many years ago, there was a man in one of the rural towns of Iran. He owned a very small farm- nothing special, and he had split the crops of this farm into two parts. One part, he would use to feed his very large family- he had 9 children. The other half of the crops would be sold to earn his livelihood. Living in the time of Reza Shah Pahlavi, the local sheriffs and governors were tyrannical oppressors, and so eventually they seized his farm for their personal gains, leaving the poor man with no source of livelihood.
Helpless and distraught, he and his family moved to Mashhad thinking that perhaps the city might offer some opportunity to earn a living. Ashamed, the man sent some of his then young children off to work, and still this wasn't enough to support the family. Finally, desperate times called for desperate measures, and he decided to send two of his sons to the Islamic seminary- not because he wanted them to become scholars but because he knew that with them over there, he would no longer need to provide for them- two fewer family members to take care of. The family was shattered at this point, they said their heartbroken goodbyes and the two sons embarked on their studies at the seminary.
80 years later, one of the two sons of this farmer, in his 90's now, was visiting Najaf. His students came to him and said that one of his former students would like to host him for dinner. The now old, blind man accepted, but the students did not tell him who it was that had invited him. So...they arrived at the host's house for dinner, and the student who had invited him greeted him and kissed his hand. The old teacher said, 'Will you tell me who you are now?' And it was none other than Ayatollah al 'Uthama Sayid Ali Sistani. The old scholar was grand Ayatollah Murwareed. The same young boy who had to leave his family and go to the seminary to save his father financial trouble had now become the grand teacher of one of the greatest Maraji' of our era.
Moral of the story? Yes, you know it- Allah is the best of planners. When I heard this story a couple of days ago, I felt so petty, so shameful for becoming upset over plans that fell through. As cliché as it sounds, often these setbacks are ones that pave our path to greatness. The ingredient we often leave out from the equation, however, is Tawakkul. There is never anything we can do about these situations but instead of being patient and having faith that something good will come out of it, we sulk, moan, complain, we insult Allah. Sometimes we might wonder whether a setback is a stone in the pathway to greatness or a punishment and consequence of our bad actions- there's one way to know...
This is a minor example but I think the principle applies. As some of you know, this year I went back into full-time education. I started my university degree after a Gap Year and it was a shaky experience to begin with. I really felt like I was struggling with how much I had to learn and insecurities filled my mind about not being good enough, failing, my confidence being knocked forever...the list goes on. In the end (a couple of weeks in) I realised there was only one way to find out whether or not I was good enough- to give 100%! If I gave anything less, I wouldn't know whether I simply wasn't good enough or if I failed because I could have done better. I didn't want to leave any room for doubt.
And that's what we need to do in our lives. I know it's a vague, broad statement to make, but it's true. If we avoid those deeds which cause our plans to fall through or calamities to befall us, then the only reasons our plans can fail or for us to suffer calamities are good, and nothing but good. Obviously, MUCH easier said than done. I address myself before any of you. May this Shahr Ramadhan bring us the mercy and forgiveness of our sins, and the Tawfeeq to give up our evil habits for good.
