Note: The Alislam Team assumes full responsibility for any errors or inaccuracies in this translation of the Friday Sermon.
Friday Sermon Delivered by Hazrat Mirza Bashiruddin Mahmud Ahmad(ra) 7 December 1923 Published in Al-Fazl, 11 December 1923
Topics: Martyrdom, Sacrifice, Tabligh, Mauritius Mission, Patience in Service
After the recitation of Surah Al-Fatiha and the verses: "O ye who believe! Seek help with patience and Prayer; surely Allah is with the steadfast. And say not of those who are killed in the way of Allah that they are dead; nay, they are living, only you perceive not. And We will try you with something of fear and hunger, and loss of wealth and lives and crops; but give glad tidings to the patient — those who, when a calamity befalls them, say: 'Surely, to Allah we belong and to Him shall we return.'" (Al-Baqarah: 154–157), Huzur(ra) said:
As long as a human being remains in this world, joy and sorrow are his constant companions. Sometimes sorrow comes first and joy follows; sometimes joy precedes and sorrow comes after; and sometimes both arrive together, leaving a person bewildered as to whether to rejoice or grieve. While the heart fills with the warmth of happiness on one side, the shadows of grief draw near on the other, reminding him: whatever state you may be in, you are still a human being, and both joy and sorrow are your portion. Only Allah, Exalted be He, is pure and above such emotions. There is no other being exempt from the effects of joy and grief — save the one whose end is blessed and who attains salvation. For such a person, there is nothing but joy; grief has no place.
For the living, death is considered the greatest calamity — people say: "Where there is life, there is the world," meaning that one's connection to the world and enjoyment of its comforts endures only as long as life itself. When life is gone, even if the entire world were offered, it would mean nothing. While one is alive, everything is possible; once dead, from a worldly standpoint, nothing remains. Wealth and property are spent to preserve life, without any hesitation about the cost of saving it. But for the one whose end is good — who departs this world in a state of being pleased with Allah and Allah being pleased with him — the moment of death is a moment of joy. The living weep for him because his separation is a cause of grief for them; but he is joyful, knowing that his Lord is pleased with him and his end has been blessed, for after death he is freed from all pain and has come under the eternal shelter of Allah's mercy and grace. Such souls — those with whom Allah is pleased — dwell in peace and tranquillity for eternity. Thus, that moment of death which is an hour of calamity for the living is, for such a dying person, a blessed and auspicious hour. The living, being preoccupied with their own attachment to life, see only the pain of separation and do not reflect upon what death means for the one who has passed.
In any case, for human beings, joy and sorrow walk hand in hand.
We have a fresh example of this very truth before us. Just the day before yesterday, Mufti Sahib returned from America after rendering service to Islam, and our hearts were filled with joy at his successful return. Everyone felt that Allah had, through His grace, opened a door of happiness for us — a dear friend who had been far away had returned to us. This was a joy in which our entire community shared, and will continue to share as the news spreads. But as I said, being human, we are destined for both joy and sorrow. So, while this was a cause of happiness, not even three days have passed before I now rise to deliver a sermon on a sorrowful matter. The subject of this sermon is apparent from the very verses I have recited, which themselves speak to its theme.
I have said that a good end transforms the moment of death into a moment of joy. One who departs this world in piety, righteousness, and service to the faith — his separation, though painful for those left behind, is for him a moment of peace and delight. A poet has beautifully said:¹
You were born weeping, while those around you laughed with joy; So strive to live such a life that when they weep at your death, you depart smiling.
When a child is born, the parents rejoice, but the child cries — for it has come through a narrow passage, its bones having been rattled in the process. The poet says: take your revenge upon those who laughed at your birth by performing such righteous deeds that at the moment of your death you are smiling — for you go beneath the shelter of Allah's grace — while those who once laughed at your birth weep at the loss of so righteous a person.
The separation of those who serve the faith is indeed a bitter draught. But the Holy Quran calls such people who give their lives in service to the faith shuhadā — martyrs — and declares them to be alive, for the only true life is that which is life in the sight of Allah. Allah says: one who dies while serving My faith has not died but is alive, for it would be an affront to God's word to call dead one upon whom Allah is pleased. How can the one who works in the cause of God be considered dead? How can God declare dead the one who died in His service? To die means to perish and be extinguished — but one who gives his life in the path of Allah cannot be extinguished, and since Allah endures forever, such a person also attains eternal life.
I have said that I rise today to deliver this sermon in memory of a dear one who gave his life in the service of the faith, and to urge our friends to pray for him. That dear soul who has received the honour of martyrdom in the service of the faith is our beloved young Ubaidullah.²
There are people of a worldly bent of mind who measure importance by noise and profile. They consider the voices coming from America or England to be of greater significance, while those who have made equal sacrifice by going to serve the faith in other lands receive little recognition in their eyes. They regard the voice that comes from Europe as important, even though all who labour in the path of Allah are equal, wherever they may be. One who gives his life preaching among people of lesser worldly standing is, in the sight of Allah, equal to one who gives his life serving among the affluent. Just as those who serve in America and England are honoured, so too are those who serve among lesser-known peoples. And in my view, both are equally worthy of reverence on account of their service to the faith.
Although, due to a materialistic outlook, the missionaries of Mauritius may escape the notice of some, they are nonetheless missionaries of the true faith. They too have left their loved ones and relatives, just as those who went to America and England have. They too have endured separation from their homeland, just as those have. Just as missionaries working in America and England have dedicated their lives to spreading Allah's name, so too have these missionaries. It is not that service in Germany, England, or America makes one's sacrifice greater, while service in other lands makes it lesser.
Yet despite this truth, and despite equal sacrifice, the missionaries of Mauritius lie buried in obscurity, and the world has few to appreciate their noble deeds — even though they are servants of Allah's faith, and their dying in its service grants them the rank of martyrhood. Not everyone can comprehend the circumstances that I comprehend, for before me come the affairs of the entire community. And even if others were to see the same letters I see, from which I draw my conclusions, they would not perceive what I am able to understand. Allah instils within my heart a particular feeling regarding these matters. What reaches others in one form comes to me and speaks to me differently, because I have knowledge of all the circumstances while others do not. There are many things which cause others joy but bring me sorrow, because within them lies a hidden aspect of grief which Allah, through His grace, makes known to me. Equally, there are reports of sorrow which cause others grief while I remain at peace, because attached to them is a hidden ray of glad tidings which others do not perceive.
I therefore say, on the basis of my knowledge and certainty, that our missionaries in Mauritius served the faith with the utmost sincerity, and they are counted among our foremost mujāhidīn; whatever they did, they did for Allah.
The death of dear Ubaidullah is no ordinary death, and it is naturally a cause of grief and anguish for us. He had no relatives in Mauritius; he did not go there for family. Nor did he go for high pay — his salary there was no more than what he might have earned here, even though what costs ten seers of flour here would buy only two seers there; yet he managed on that salary. He was not elderly, having already enjoyed the pleasures of life in his youth before setting out to serve the faith in old age. He was but seventeen or eighteen years old when he dedicated his life to the faith. Among life's great joys is living among one's loved ones and relatives — but from the very beginning, this joy was not his. His early years were spent away from his parents in Qadian, engaged in study; and when he finished his education, he left India altogether. He had very little opportunity to be with his father, for whatever portion of life he had was spent either in Qadian for education or outside India in the propagation of the faith. He died, as it were, an orphan's death — he came into this world alone and departed alone, in such circumstances and in such a state as to make the depth of grief felt almost impossible to measure. Let aside his other circumstances — this death alone is a great sacrifice, and it carries with it the most profound sorrow.
But beyond his other fine qualities, I had discerned in him one particular virtue which his death has rendered all the more luminous: he had fulfilled the pledge he made — to dedicate his life to the faith — with remarkable patience and steadfastness, without ever uttering a single word of complaint or expressing the slightest hardship, until the very end. Many great men, when confronted with difficulties, become agitated and complain of financial hardships, or speak of missing their relatives, or long for their homeland. But throughout this long period, this dear one never wrote a single letter in which even a hint of complaint — direct or implied — could be found. I never once sensed from his letters that he was suffering any hardship or that he missed his loved ones.
And yet more remarkable than even this: his most recent letters (letters from Mauritius take a long time to arrive) revealed that the deceased had contracted tuberculosis — a disease upon the announcement of which even men of great stature are alarmed. But his state was extraordinary. In his last letter he wrote: "The doctors say I have tuberculosis, but I believe they are wrong. And even if it is so, what of it? I must continue to do the work of Allah's faith, and I am doing so." Consider — when great men tremble at a doctor's diagnosis and are alarmed merely at the name of tuberculosis, this dear one, with what composure did he keep himself engaged in the work of Allah! With what courage did he contest the doctors' verdict! Even in that critical condition, he was not heedless of his work or his pledge.
His subsequent letters had indicated some improvement. But it appears that, because speaking is strictly forbidden for a patient of this disease, the exertion of giving lessons and lectures brought about his sudden death. For on the 6th of December a telegram arrived saying he was ill, and today (7th of December) a telegram has come to say he has passed away. His death is like that of a warrior who, seeing the enemy army trampling the Muslims underfoot, takes his sword in hand, charges into the ranks of the disbelievers, and breathes his last upon the battlefield. Far from home, far from loved ones, suffering from a disease in which a person needs the care and service of his family under his own roof — he gave his life. And thus, until his final breath, he fulfilled his pledge to dedicate his life in service to the faith, and demonstrated that no hardship could hold him back from the path of Allah.
He is therefore deserving of our gratitude and praise. It is our duty to speak of him with honour. And indeed, whose praise can surpass that given by Allah? Placing my trust in Allah, I say: he has received praise from Allah. Allah says of the Companions in the Holy Quran: "Among the believers are men who have been true to the covenant they made with Allah: of them some have fulfilled their vow by dying, and some still wait; and they have not changed in the least." (Al-Ahzab: 24). I believe Maulvi Ubaidullah has, through his actions, proved himself a living embodiment of this verse. There are many such examples among the Companions, but in our community such examples are still few.
There is a hadith that when the Battle of Badr had concluded, one Companion who could not participate in it said: "Had I been there, I would have fought thus." Then when the Battle of Uhud came, and the feet of the Muslims faltered in error — to the point that at one moment the Holy Prophet(sa) found himself almost alone — one Companion saw him in this state but did not recognise him. He was ascending to higher ground, his face was veiled, no Companion was with him, and the force of the disbelievers was directed toward that very side. This was the moment when word had spread that the Holy Prophet(sa) had been martyred. That very Companion who had spoken thus after Badr, saw Hazrat 'Umar(ra) with his head bowed in thought, overwhelmed by grief. The Companion asked him what had happened. Hazrat 'Umar(ra) said: "The Messenger of Allah (saw) has been martyred." The Companion said: "If the Messenger of Allah (saw) has been martyred, then what is the use of our living? Come, let us go to where the Messenger of Allah (saw) has gone." With these words, he took his sword in hand, plunged into the army of the disbelievers, and was martyred. When his body was examined, seventy wounds were found on it, and it had been mutilated beyond recognition.³
There is an account of another Companion whose legs had been severed in the battle, and who was writhing in agony. A fellow Companion reached him and asked how he fared. He said: "First tell me — what is the condition of the Messenger of Allah (saw)?" The reply came: "The Messenger of Allah (saw) is safe." The Companion said: "Please convey my salutations to the Messenger of Allah (saw), and tell him — now that I know he is safe, I give my life in peace — and tell my people to guard Muhammad(sa) until their last breath, for he is held among them as Allah's trust. Let it not be that he comes to any harm."⁴ With these words, he passed away in peace.
Such were the models set by the Companions, and it is for this reason that the reverence we hold for them in our hearts exceeds even that which we hold for our own forefathers. I use the word "forefathers" in the colloquial sense, for Allah's power has fashioned me from the lineage of one who, through his deeds and sacrifices, surpassed all those before him and, severing the chain of intermediaries, joined directly to his Master Muhammad(sa). Setting him aside, however many great odes might be composed in praise of all other forefathers, not a single nerve of pleasure in our bodies would stir. But if those Companions are praised — who were not of our nation or our land, yet who through their services to the faith are dearer to us than our own loved ones — waves of joy surge through our very being.
In our Indian community, until now, examples like those found among the Companions are very rare — those who know both how to pledge their lives for the faith and then how to honour that pledge. Many there are who do not know sacrifice, or do not make it, or are unable to. But Maulvi Ubaidullah was from among us — one who proved by his actions that he knew both how to dedicate his life to the faith and how to fulfil that pledge.
The first martyr in our community was Hazrat Syed Abdul Latif(ra); or more precisely, before him his own student was martyred — though he was not from India but from outside. From India, the first opportunity for martyrdom has come to Ubaidullah. We are proud of his death, though with that pride comes the grief that a righteous and pure soul, who was ceaselessly engaged day and night in the service of Allah's faith, has departed from our midst.
I pray to Allah for him, and for those he leaves behind. May Allah grant the departed a lofty station of nearness to Him, and may He grant patience to those left behind.
I will lead the funeral prayer after the Friday prayer today, and I request communities outside that wherever this announcement reaches, the funeral prayer for the late Maulvi Ubaidullah be offered at the first Friday prayer. This khutbah should be read out during the sermon at that time. If there is anything additional to be said, it may be added, but this khutbah must certainly be read. We can do nothing for the departed but pray. The one who gave his life doing what it was our duty to do — if we cannot even render him this small service, what greater miserliness can there be? A community that does not accord its martyrs a place of honour and dignity cannot survive. So let the friends pray for the late Maulvi with sincerity and devotion.
Our dear one, through this sacrifice, has proven that Indians too can sacrifice for the faith. Our friends should take lesson from the departed, move forward, and stand at that station which is the station of nearness to Allah — pressing forward in the field of service to the faith, never retreating.
(Al-Fazl, 11 December 1923)
Footnotes
¹ Mahāsin al-Adab, Part 2, cited in Durus al-Adab, p. 90.
² Maulvi Ubaidullah Sahib(ra), son of Hafiz Ghulam Rasul Sahib.
³ Sahih al-Bukhari, Kitab al-Maghazi, Ghazwa Uhud. https://readhadith.app/hadith/bukhari-4048
⁴ Muwatta Imam Malik, Kitab al-Jihad, Bab al-Shuhada fi Sabil Allah.
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