لطفا منتظر باشید ...
Chapter 12Why
Fatima?
Ali and Fatima are now in their
home outside of the city. They live away from the daily bustle of the city,
near the village of Ghoba, eight kilometers to the south of Medina, next to the
Ghoba Mosque. It is here that the Prophet upon his migration, before entering
the city, spent one week and Ali, who left Mecca three days after him, caught
up with the Prophet at Ghoba. It was after that that the Prophet went for the
first time to Medina and established Islam freely in this city. He put in the
foundation for his new mosque and history began.
They later move from here back to
Medina next door to the house of the Prophet and the mosque of the Prophet. The
similarities between these two beginnings at the Ghoba mosque and the Medina
mosque and the comparison between these
two realities is most exciting to whomever is acquainted with Shiite Islam and
who knows the story of the Prophet's mosque and the house of the Prophet'. If
they do not know it logically, they will emotionally sense it.
The Spirit of Mohammad
While Fatima and Ali are far from the Prophet in
Ghoba, it is most difficult for the Prophet. These two, the spirit of
Mohammad's house are living far from him, outside the city, in a home full of
difficulties and poverty but with a great deal of love and faith.
Ali, from the beginning of his childhood, has
lived with poverty, loneliness, difficulties, hatred, religious struggle and
asceticism. He has borne his hard and bitter life in Mecca patiently. His youth
and early childhood had been nothing other than being immersed in beliefs and
religious struggle. He is a very serious spirit, having no thoughts about a
house, life, pleasure, wealth and comfort. He has a thirst which is only
satisfied by bitterness. He is built from worship, asceticism, thought and
work.
Fatima is also an extract of
sorrow, piety and poverty. She bears the tortures that her father, her mother,
her sisters and her brother, Ali have borne for years in Mecca. They leave a
deep impression upon her body and upon her spirit. A weak body with deep
feelings, she has a most sensitive heart. Now in the house of Ali, she pressures
herself once again to live with difficulties, work, poverty and asceticism.
Neither is Ali a person who brings happiness and entertainment to their house,
nor is Fatima a person who can bring routine desires and excitement to their
new home so as to pull Ali from heaven to earth and tap his internal strength,
depth and seriousness.
It is only the Prophet and the
Prophet alone who can cause a wave to fall and bring about the happiness of his
beloveds through kindness, good feelings and words, each one of which contains
an ocean of meaning, sweetness and power for the spirit, hope and love.
The Prophet is himself aware of
this. He knows the needs of his beloveds who live because they love. He knows,
Whosoever loves Hirii has no life and to whosoever loves Him, this is life
itself.' He brings his Fatima and his
Ali close to him. Their house is made next door to his. It is made just
like his of branches and palm leaves. Its door opens to the mosque, wall to
wall two windows facing each other, one from the house of Ali and the other
from Mohammad's house.
These two
windows which face each other, actually
speak of two hearts which open onto each other: the heart of a father
and the heart of a daughter. Each morning they
open onto each other. Each morning, greetings. How are you?' and
laughter. Each evening, a promise to meet his daughter the next day. It is this
window about which it is said, The
Prophet, everyday, without exception, unless he was on a journey, sought out
Fatima and greeted her.'
Why from
among all of the Companions, from among all of his close family, from among all
of his daughters, should only Fatima be in the mosque and wall to wall with his
home? The house of Mohammad is the house of Fa tima. The family in which Ali
is the father, Fatima, the mother, Hasan and Hosein, the sons and finally,
Zainab and Umm Khulthum, the daughters, is the family of the Prophet. The
family of the Prophet is this unique family, this unique home that is so
emphasized in the Qoran and the Traditions, and which has been cleansed of all
impurities and is chaste, guards them, for all generations and ages to come.
Whosoever
knows this family does not need reasoning and lengthy discussions, because even
if there were no words expressed, intelligence itself will admit its
uniqueness.
Now in Medina, wall to wall with the house
of Aiesha, this house built in the mosque, the fruit of this great and
incomparable seedling grows. Hasan, Hosein, Zainab, Umm Khulthum. A new history
has begun. With the dawn of these stars, new horizons have been found: for
Mohammad, the meaning of life, for Islam, the proof of belief and for
humanity, the witness of all things!
The Continuation of Mohammad
The third year of the migration,
one year and a few months after the marriage, Hasan is horn. Medina celebrates
the end of its waiting for its messenger. The Prophet, who for the first time
during these sixteen long and drawn out years of difficulties, full of torture,
hatred, ugliness, treachery, where news of the torture of his friends and death
of his beloveds reach him, now tastes the new and sweet news of the birth of
Hasan which soothes his tired spirit.
Full of happiness, he enters
Fatima's house; he holds the first fruit of the union of Ali and Fatima in his
arms. He recites the 'call to prayer' into the baby's ear and finally
distributes silver to the poor people of Mecca to the amount of hair on the
baby's head.
A year passes. Hosein is born.
Now the Prophet has two sons.
Fate desired that his two sons,
Qasem and Abdullah should not remain because the sons of the Prophet should be through Fatima. As the Prophet said,
'The generation of each Prophet was from his own body but mine is from Ali.'
And Ali as well. He should not
remain apart from the generations which begin with Mohammad. Isn't it true in
meaning that Ali is the continuation of Mohammad in spirit, his inheritor. It
is Mohammad's progeny who should have continued. These two spirits join to
produce the successive generations. In the mission of Mohammad, Ali is present
and in the succession of Ali, Mohammad is present. Now the presence of both of
them can be seen in the pure faces of these two children and Mohammad sees
three faces in these two: Ali, Fatima and his own.
Fate decrees that these two
should take the pace of his sons. These two are the fruits of the union of Ali
and Fatima. Fatima, the mother of her father, all of the Companions know and
repeat 'his smallest and most beloved daughter'. And Ali? His guardian, his
brother and from Fatima, his most beloved sons.
The roots which join Ali and
Mohammad to each other are incapable of being counted. Both stemmed from Abdul
Muttalib. The mother of Ali looked after Mohammad from the time he was eight
years old. And his father, Abu Talib, was as Mohammad's father. Mohammad grew
up in Ali's house from the age of eight to twenty five and Ali grew up in
Mohammad's house from early childhood until the age of twenty five. Khadijeh
was as Ali's mother and the Prophet was as his father!
What similar and closer union
could there have been! Their relationships are all comparable. Two human beings
are symmetrical to each other. Two 'one another's'.
Ali is the first person who
accepts Islam from the Prophet. He extends the first hand to the Prophet when
he is hidden and alone. They join together and from then on stand along side
all of the dangers and in the midst of all of the difficulties, until his
death.
Before the mission, Ali is a
small boy of six or seven years old. He takes him alone to Mt. Hira. He
participates in the depth of asceticism and wonderful prayers and accompanies
him day and night.
A man can be seen standing. alone
in the moonlight, in the silence of the whisperings and words of the night of
Ramazan, close to the time of the mission, upon the top of Mt. Hira. He is
either sitting down or slowly pacing back and forth. Sometimes, underneath the
rain of inspiration, his head falls under the weight of the whispered
feelings. Sometimes he raises his head to the heavens and in the depths of the
ignorance of that, he cries until he finds the way. He is waiting. He sees
something which is still unknown to him. During all of these times, a small
child; like his shadow, is with him, sometimes on his shoulder and sometimes
beside him.
Ali is a child of nine or ten
years old. One night, in the home of the Prophet, he enters his mother and
father's room: Khadijeh and Mohammad! He sees them kneeling on the ground,
sitting for awhile and then rising and saying something under their lips. Both
together. Neither one notices him. He remains in wonder. Finally he asks, What
are you doing?'
The Prophet answers, We are
performing our prayers. I have been sent as the messenger to spread the word of
submission (Islam) and to call people to the worship of the One God and my own
mission. Ali, I call you as well to it.'
And Ali, still a child, of no
more than a few years of age, living in the house of Mohammad, drowned in his
kindness and his greatness, he is Ali! He does not say yes without thinking.
Faith must filter through his wisdom and then find its way to his heart. At
the same time, his tongue has the tone of his age and years, as he says, Allow
me to talk to my father, Abu Talib, and then make my decision.'
Immediately afterwards, he runs
up the stairs to his room to sleep. But this invitation is not an ordinary invitation
which Ali, even though only eight or ten years old, could take quietly. He
stays awake thinking until dawn.
No one knows what effect the
words that night had on the thoughts of this boy but in the morning, they hear
his footsteps, light, but decisive and quiet. They stop behind the door of the
Prophet and in a sweet voice but with the beauty and perseverance of Ali, he
says, Last night, I thought to myself, God, in creating me, had not consulted
Abu Talib, first. So why should I now ask his opinion about worshipping Him? 'Tell
me about Islam.'
The Prophet speaks to him and he
says, 'I accept.' From then on he finds himself upon this way and in the midst
of this union. He spends every second .of his life towards this end. He
becomes. a wonderful symbol of one who worships God, is loyal to Mohammad and a
friend to humanity and devoted to the spirit. He joins with the heart and
thoughts of Mohammad in a thousand ways, both hidden and manifest. Everyone
knows this. Mohammad knows it more than others. He senses the thousands of rays
of light which fall from his spirit upon Ali. This is why one day, when his
spirit is filled with the light which shone upon him from the Prophet, he
becomes excited, his heart deeply desires to hear the Prophet's feelings, towards
him, so he asks, Among these two, which is the most beloved of the Prophet, his
daughter, Fatima Zahra, or her husband, Ali?'
The Prophet was at the other end
of a difficult question. At the same time that he was required to answer an
impossible question', while smiling kindly and softly, he found the answer
which he felt would be right for that which all concerned had in their hearts.
With atone full of the victory of pleasure, he answered, 'Fatima is more
beloved to me than you and you are dearer to me than she.'
He never tries to show himself to
differ from others. Rather, it was the opposite. He would say, I am a human
being like you. The only difference is the revelation which I receive.' He
always declared that he did not know the hidden world and other than that which
is told him, he knows nothing. He was always trying not to stand out or seem
peculiar and as far as possible, not to call attention to himself.
One day an old woman approached
him to ask him something. All the things that she had heard about him and the
greatness she knew he had, had so effected her that when she found herself in
his presence, she trembled and stuttered. The Prophet, who sensed that she had
been struck by his person and his presence, moves simply and quietly forward.
With kindness, he places his hand upon her shoulder and in a kind and intimate
tone, he says, Mother. What is it? I am the son of that Qoraish woman who
milked sheep.'
The depth of his sensitivity,
sympathy and the softness of his heart, was most amazing. Sometimes, inside
the house, he would so humble him:3elf that the hands of little Aiesha easily
reached him. He kissed the hands of Fatima. His analogies which came from
kindness were something special: 'Ammar is as the space between my two eyes,'
'Ali is from me and I am from Ali,' 'Fatima is a part of my body.'
And now Hasan and Hosein are
born. What things did the Prophet not do with these two beloved children! He
loved them, the mirror and vital fruit of the most beloved of his dearest
ones' and the dearest of his beloveds'. He had always showed special kindness
towards Fatima and gave her spiritual strength to an extent which cannot even
be found among men today. And now, from his only remaining daughter, two sons
have been found whom he must have loved very dearly. He was so fond of them
that everyone expressed amazement.
One day, he enters Fatima's house
as he did everyday and from the time the children were born, every moment,
every hour. He enters. He sees that both Ali and Fatima are asleep and Hasan is
hungry and crying. He can find nothing to eat. The Prophet cannot bring himself
to wake his dearest and his most beloved. Quietly and barefooted, he takes
himself to the sheep in the house, milks it and gives the milk to the child
until he becomes quiet.
One day, when he is hurriedly
passing Fatima's house, suddenly the cries of Hosein reach his ears. He returns
and enters the house and with his whole body shaking, he yells at Fatima,
Don't you understand that his crying causes me pain!'
Osameh ibn Zeid, whom we have
mentioned before says, 'I had business with the Prophet. I knocked at his door.
He came out. As I was talking to him, I realized he had something hidden under
his clothes and he was holding onto it with difficulty, but I did not know what
it was. When I had finished saying what I had come to say, I asked, What is
that which you are holding, Prophet of God?'
The Prophet, while his face
filled with delight and pleasure, pulled apart his cloak and I saw Hasan and
Hosein. At the same time that he wanted to explain his unusual behavior to me,
he could not take his eyes off of them; in a tone full of joy and happiness, as
if speaking to himself, he said, these are my two sons and the sons of my
daughter'.'
Then as his voice, full of
wonder, in a melody which cannot be expressed, continued, Oh, God, I love
these two. Love these two and love those who love them.'
In the words of a contemporary
Arab, If they were to. have asked Mohammad which of his daughters should
continue his line and which son in law, he would have chosen the same two which
God chose.'
The children of Zahra and Ali
sense, in the form of Mohammad, a grandfather, a father, a friend, a relative
of the family, a guardian, a companion and a playmate. They were closer to him,
more intimate and freer than with their own mother and father. One day, during
one of the congregational prayers, the Prophet went down in prostration. The
prostration continued for such a long time that the people who were praying
behind him began to wonder what had happened.[In the congregational prayer, the
congregation performs the prayer behind an Imam or leader and they all move and
perform the prayer in unison.] The Prophet had always been swift in his ritual
prayer. According to his command, he always took the weakest people into
consideration.
They thought something had
happened or else that a revelation had reached him. After the ritual prayer,
they asked him. He said, 'Hosein had climbed on my back when I had gone down in
prostration. As he had the habit of doing this in my home, I could not bring
myself to rush him, so I waited until he himself came down. This is why the
prostration took so long.'
At the same time, the Prophet
insists that all people, especially the Companions, know that and see with their
own eyes, how he loves these two children, Hasan and Hosein and their mother
and their father with more love than anyone's heart can. hold.
If not, why does he treat Fatima
with so much respect among all this gathering? Why does he kiss her hand and
her face in the mosque so much and with such insistence? When he speaks from
the pulpit, he constantly tries to show his spirit and feelings to this family,
to everyone. After his prayers, he adds the words, 'God love them as well,'
referring to Hasan, Hosein, Fatima and Ali. 'Their satisfaction is my
satisfaction and my satisfaction is God's satisfaction. God, whoever bothers
them, has bothered me and whoever bothers me, bothers Thee.'
These words? Why all these
expressions of feelings and showing of love and showing of affection
,especially to this family? The near future will answer all of these 'whys'.
The fate of this family, the fate of each and every member of this family,
gives the answers to these.'whys'. They all begin with the Prophet. The first
sacrifice is Fatima, then Ali, then Hasan, then Hosein, and, finally, Zainab.
In the 5th year of Ali and
Fatima's marriage, one year after Hosein, a girl is born to this family. She
had to be born and she had to closely follow Hosein: Zainab. And in the
following year, another girl, Umm Khulthum. Zainab and Umm Khulthum. They have
the same names as the daughters of the Prophet.
Yes. Fatima is becoming
'everyone' to the Prophet and his 'only one'. His Zainab dies, Roqiyyeh and Umm
Khulthum also die. In the 8th year of the migration, God 'gave him a son,
Abraham, but he also died. Now there is Mohammad and his only, remaining child,
Fatima; Fatima, and her children. This is the family of the Prophet. The love
of the Prophet for Hasan and Hosein increases. These two children have become
his whole life and he spends all of his free time with them.The Compassion of Mohammad
The Prophet is a man who showed
great strength of decision and speech, whose sword wasfeared by all the
Caesars, Kings and powerful rulers of that time. His enemies trembled from his
anger. At the same time, he is a most sensitive person with a heart which beats
with the smallest wave of kindness and a spirit which is excited by the
slightest touch of truth, sincerity and kindness.
At the terrible battle of Honein,
where the enemies had united in order to put him under their swords and destroy
him and drag him to defeat and death, 6000 people were taken prisoners and
40,000 camels and sheep and other plunder was seized. A man came out from among
the defeated enemy and said, 'Oh, Mohammad, among these prisoners are your wet
nurse and your aunts and uncles.'He then added, 'If we were in the presence of
your nurse, we would expect kindness from her and you are greater than any of
us.'
They brought a woman forward, 'I
am the sister of your Prophet.' The Prophet said, 'What sign do you have?'
She showed her
shoulder and said, These are the marks of your teeth which you made when I carried you on my back and you became very
angry and it me.'
The memories so flooded his mind
as he remembered the kindnesses of,his nurse and. her daughters and the time of
his childhood in the desert amidst this tribe, he was so affected and put into
a state of wonder that tears gathered in his eyes and he said, I give away my
share and the shares of all of the children of Abdul Muttalib. Be present in
the mosque tomorrow. After the ritual prayer, announce your request to the
gathering. I will give my family's answer to you and perhaps other tribes will
follow me. The next day he did as he said he would and he freed all of them. A
few who objected to giving back everything, were satisfied when they were
promised something later.
In the home and among the family,
he is like this. To the outside world, he is a warrior, a politician, a commander,
full of strength and power. And inside the home, a kind father, a humble
husband, simple and intimate. Even though his wives were sometimes rude to him,
he never once struck them. They caused him to suffer because they could not
bear living with poverty in his home.
He would leave them and go out
and sleep in a storage room. He would put up a ladder and sleep on the second
floor of the room or he would sweep the floor and sleep on the earth. He lived
like this for one month.
Finally, his wives, who both
loved him and had faith in him, would surrender and would become still from the
shame of their behaviour. He announced they
should either choose divorce and this world or he and poverty. All
except one preferred the second proposal and remained with him.
Whenever he leaves his home and
wherever he goes, whether walking in the streets or bazaar of Medina, he takes
one of these two children upon his shoulder.
In the mosque, he goes to the
pulpit to speak to the people who are standing listening to him. Below, his
grandchildren are in the house next to the mosque. They leave the house
wearing red shirts, begin walking and fall down. Suddenly the Prophet's eyes
fall upon them. He cannot take his eyes off of them. He sees that they walk
with difficulty. They fall and get up again. He can no longer bear it. He stops
in the middle of his words, anxiously comes down from the pulpit, picks them up
and as he had done when they were babies, holds them in his arms, and again returns
to the pulpit. He sees the people are amazed. They are surprised by the extent
of the spiritual excitement of this powerful. man. They sense that he wishes
to ask their pardon. Because of his children, he has interrupted his words.
While he kindly held the
children, he returned to the pulpit and said, God spoke rightly when He said,
your children and your wealth are your trials and tribulations.' My eyes fell
upon these two children and I saw that each step they took, they fell down. I
cound not bear it so I broke off my words and went and got them.'
They say his compassion towards
Hosein was different. The power and depth of his sensitivities exceeded all
limits. He took hold of his shoulders. He played with him and sang for him. He
stretched himself out. He put his feet upon his chest and took his hand. Full
of love and tenderness, he kissed him and from the bottom of his heart, he
said, God love him. I love him.'
One day he had 'an invitation to
go some place. He left the house with a few of his Companions. In the bazaar
his eyes suddenly fell upon Hosein who was playing with his playmates. The
Prophet stood before the children. He extended his hands to take his
grandchild. The child ran from one corner to the other. The Prophet, trying to
catch him and laughing, caught hold of him. He put one hand on the back of the
child and with his other, he took hold of his chin, kissed him and said,
Hosein is from me and I am from Hosein. God love whoever loves Hosein.' His
Companions wonderously looked on. One turned to another and said, The Prophet
treats his grandchild in such a manner. By God, I have a son and I have never
kissed him.
The Prophet, for all of his
coldness and anger, turned to him and said, Whosoever shows no kindness,
receives no kindness.'
Days and nights came and went and
Fatima tasted the sweet moments of happiness and the bitter memories past. The
poverty she had suffered, faded.
The Battle of Khaybar came and
the ) ews gave the grazing area of Fadak to the Prophet. He gave it to Fatima.
Fatima, who now had four children, finds life less difficult to cope with.The Conquest of Mecca
Mecca is conquered. Fatima
accompanies her victorious father and hero husband who had held the flag in
his hand. They enter Mecca. She witnesses the greatest victory of Islam. She
revisits the city where she had been born. She remembers the good and bad times
she had had in Mecca. The Mosque of the Ka'ba and what had happened, the house
of her father, her life with her sisters who were no longer alive, birthplace
of Fatima,' the valley of Abu Talib, the grave of her mother, Khadijeh ....
She returns full of the happiness
of victory and satisfaction, drowned in honors and goodnesses. Her father is
little by little being freed from the enmity of his enemies. His shadow falls
upon the whole of the peninsula. Her husband is a blow to reckon with at the
battles of Badr, Ohud, Khandaq, Khaybar and the conquest of Mecca. One blow of
his at these battles or even at Honein and Yemen are worth more than the
prayers of men and jinn and their intimacy until the Day of judgment.
And her children. The only fruits
of a life of sorrow and difficulties, a union with love and faith and the only
continuation of the seed of her father and she herself, the heart of the
family, center of the home and pure family of the Prophet. Yes. It is as if
Fatima is compensating for all of the sorrow, bitterness and virtues. That
which fills her more than anything else, is that her children so fill the heart
and soul of her father and she can then compensate for the sufferings of her
beloved father, for whom no son remains and all of whose daughters, except her,
die in their youth; who have no further children from his marriages, more than
thirteen years after the death of Khadijeh, other than Abraham from an Egyptian
slave who dies while still a nursing infant.
Now, with her beloved children,
Hasan and Hosein, Zainab and Umm Khulthum, she is compensated. The sweet taste
of seeing them, the rawness which all of his life had been nothing but
bitterness, had a chance to become familiar with the happiness and pleasure
which life can offer, particularly since his age had reached over sixty and his
feelings and needs for these children were more than ever.
Life has been kind. A sweet smile
appears upon Fatima's face. A halo of goodness, honor and generosity fall
around her house. Fatima, enjoying the unexplainable kindness of her father,
the greatness of her honorable husband and the pleasure which her children
bring her, lives in a throne full of good fortune which is close to all of her
desires and aspirations.
But all of this peacefulness is
just the quiet before the storm. The storm comes. It is black, frightening and
like a wind, takes all of her peace and destroys her home.
The Prophet is bed ridden.The Death of the Prophet
He can no longer rise.
All images suddenly change in her
eyes. The pure and good Medina now flows with hatred and fear. Politics, pushed
faith and piety from the city of Mohammad. The promises of brothers are broken
apart and tribal oaths are again being renewed. The Prophet is no .longer a
leader. Ali is sent for. Aiesha and Hafseh call their fathers.
Yesterday the voice of Omar was
heard saying the ritual prayer and today she hears the voice of Abu Bakr. The
army stands without words. Against the words and even insults of her father,
they will not move. From all corners come objections about the choice of Osameh
as the leader of the army, although her father had himself chosen him and had
given him the banner of leadership.
Today is Thursday and what a
Thursday.. 'A rain of teats fall from the eyes of my father, He orders, 'Bring
a tablet and a pen so that I can write something so that when 1 am gone, you
will not be led astray.' They cause an uproar. They do not allow it. They say
he is just mumbling. They say the book of. God exists, there is no need of
writing anything.'
'And now, the father no longer
speaks. Now the house of Aiesha, which is wall to wall with my house, is
silent. His head is in Ali's lap. His eyes are beginning to close. He is
speaking to me more with his eyes.'
'I can no longer bear all of
these difficulties. He is my father: I am his mother. If he leaves me in this
city with all the uproar of these people,...!
'He does not take his eyes off of
me. He is more worried about me. He read in my face that I am suffering. His
heart bleeds for me. Fatima, his daughter, his youngest daughter, his most
beloved daughter.
'He indicates things to me with
his eyes. I lean my face over and place it on his. He whispers to me that his
sickness is death. 'I will die'.
'I pick up my head. Misery and
terror so overcome me that I lose all my strength. The misery of remaining
alive after my father almost tears my heart apart.
'Why does he just give me this
message? I who am the weakest among all the rest?
'But his look is fixed upon me.
His heart burns for his youngest daughter who, like a baby, is addicted to him.
He again indicates that I should draw near. It is as if he wants to, continue
what he had been saying: 'But, you; my daughter, will be the first person from
among my family who will come after me and who will join me.' Then he adds,
'Are you not satisfied, Fatima, that you will be the leading woman of these
people?'
'What a significant condolence.
What good news could lessen the pain of this misery except this. The news of
the death of my father! God bless you, father. How well you know how to give
condolences to Fatima. I understand why among all these people, I alone must
hear of the news of his death. Now I have found the strength of crying and
mourning: 'The man is dying. Clouds gather humidity from his white face, the
protector of orphans and the refuge of widows.'
Suddenly the Prophet opens his
eyes and says, 'Fatima, this poem is in praise of Abu Talib. Don't recite a
poem in my praise. Recite the Qoran. Recite!'
'Mohammad is no more than a
Prophet. Other prophets have been sent before him. If he dies or is killed,
you will go backwards and you will return to the reactionary, despotism of
ancient time.'
Then he says, 'God curse those
who set up the graves of their Prophets as places of worship.' While whispering
to himself, he says, 'is there a place in hell for oppressive dictators?' He
continues, 'We have given that home in the next world to those who do not
oppress and .create corruption. Whosoever does not want these, should not seek
them, should not do them.'
'The politicians do not allow him
to write anything, but ask him to just say what it is he wants to write. 'What
do you want to write?' Annoyed, he looks at them and says, 'What I intend to do
is better than what you call me for.' In answer to those who are asking him
what he wants to write, he says,'I counsel you to three things: first, push the
polytheists out of the Arabian peninsula; second, accept the agents of the
tribes in the way that I accepted them; third,...!
'Suddenly they all look at Ali.
He is silenced by his sorrow. The father is silent. The duration of his silence
continues. Looking into a corner, tears well in his eyes and he continues
thinking. They leave.
'I screamed in pain. My grief is
from your grief, father. In a tone of peace, in answer to me, he says, 'There
will never be any sorrow for your father again.'
'My father's lips were sealed,
the lips which recited the revelation, lips which had kissed his daughter and
her children. He regarded us for awhile and then his eyes closed. Blood flowed
from his throat. His head was upon Ali's chest. Ali held a frightening and
heavy silence. As you say, he died before my father. Aiesha lamented upon my
father's head as did his other wives.
'Yes. Yes.
The moments passed in the silence
of death. Suddenly his hands, which were in a position of prayer upon Osameh's
head, fell to his sides and his lips moved, To my highest Friend.' All things
ended.
'Father, oh father! You accepted
God's invitation. You went to Gabriel.'
'Outside there was an uproar. The
city was crying with hesitation and fear. I heard the cries of Omar, who said,
'The Prophet has not died. He rose to heaven like Jesus Christ. He will return.
Whosoever says the Prophet has died is a hypocrite. I will cut off his head.'
'Several hours passed. It became quiet. I saw that Abu Bakr
and Omar entered the room. Abu Bakr pulled. back the covering over my father's
face. He cried and left. Omar also
left.
'Ali began the work of ablution
and putting on the white cloth of the dead. My husband, Ali, Abul Hasan (father
of Hasan, one of Ali's titles), washed the pure body of my father while he
continued crying. He poured water upon him and fire upon my soul. People had
lost their Prophet. People remained without refuge, the Companions without a
leader but Ali and I lost everybody and everything. Suddenly, I sensed that in
this city, in the world, we were exposed.
'All at once everything turned
around. Faces changed. Terror fell from the door and wall. Politics replaced
truth. The hands which had shaken in binding brothers together to their oaths
moved distances apart and relatives moved closer. The Elders and aristocracy
took on a new life beside the cold body of my father, the Prophet of God and
Messenger to the people.
'For Ali and myself the event is
so terrible that we could think of nothing but the death of the Prophet. The
city was full of plans, plots and conflicts and for us, existence all at one
time, emptied itself. While there was the shadow of fear upon the face of
Abbas, our oldest uncle, he came and in a tone full of meaning and frightened,
addressed Ali. 'Put your hands forward so that I can give my allegiance so that
they can say the uncle of the Prophet of God gave his allegiance to the son of
the uncle of the Prophet of God. The members of your family will also give
their allegiance to you. When this is finished, no one will be able to oppose
it.
'What? Is there someone who wants this position?'
'Tomorrow you shall know:'
'Ali sensed the danger. But this
sense of danger passed through him like lightening and left. He was inwardly
overflowing with sorrow. Mohammad was his relative, his father, his guardian,
his teacher, his brother, his friend. The Prophet was his total capital, faith,
feelings and the existence of Ali. He could not bring himself to think about
the events taking place outside of this home. He sensed his spirit under his cold
hands. He sensed a trembling. He did the ablution. He was busy with the Prophet
and, 1, with his children, my children.'
Hasan was 7, Hosein 6, Zainab 5
and Umm Khulthum was 3. Destiny had planned a life of enmity for the young
children after his death. Outside the city at Saqifeh, the Emigrants (ansvr) of
the Prophet gathered together to choose the representative for the Prophet from
among themselves. They felt that the Qoraish of Mecca had their own plans. Abu
Bakr, Omar and Abu Obedeh have arrived and they convince them that the Prophet
had said, Leaders are from among the Qoraish.' They reasoned that the
replacement for the Prophet must be from among his family. As a result, Abu
Bakr was chosen at Saqifeh.
And Fatima tasted life in the
skirts of her mother and beside her father at a time when there was no longer
any effects of the wealth of her mother, the peacefulness of the life of her
father, and the happiness of her youth with her sisters. Her mother became old
and broken. Her mother's age had passed beyond 65 years. Happiness, wealth and
the good fortune of life were replaced by weakness, poverty, difficulties, an
environment of hatred, the treachery of her family and strangers.
And her mother, Khadijeh, before
being the mother of Fatima and wife of Mohammad, was the first associate and
the greatest companion of a man who had to bear the heavy load and the troubles
of the mission, the one upon whom the mission of heaven had fallen, the mission
of removing the blackness of ignorance, the mission of returning the fire of
God to mankind, freeing people from the chains of bondage; changing the
economic system of slavery from the prison of the thought of idol worship, is
now the mother of Fatima, but completely occupied with Mohammad who inwardly
has received a wonderful storm of thoughts and feelings about that which is
above life and happiness. Around her, a fire full of hatred and the troubles of
the worship of materiality and enmity spread. The mother of Fatima is busy with
the difficulties and the Revolution of Mohammad. Mohammad lives amidst his
troubles and his Revolution the message of God and his people.
There is no heart which would
sense what Fatima was now feeling. The love of Fatima for the Prophet was much
more than the love of a daughter for her father, the daughter who was also the
mother of her father, a sympathesizer with him in his exile and loneliness,
acceptance of his troubles and his sorrow, companion in the religious
struggle, a link in the chain of his confines, his last daughter and during the
last years of his life, his only child. After his death, she was his only
survivor, the light of his home, the only pillar of his family and, finally,
the only mother of his children, his inheritors, the wife of his Ali.
Just when Fatima needed the love
of her mother and the kindness of her father, she senses that her mother and
father, who had both only lived with pain, loneliness and misery, needed her
child like kindness and caresses. Her sympathies and her life with him was only
40 years of death. The house which had made them house mates was the result of
their being homeless. The attraction which they had between their family had
made them strangers with others and exiled in life. It was their loneliness
which brought them together.
There is a saying that 'a heart
which finds a friend through trouble and sorrow, develops a friendship which,
in comparison to a love based on happiness and pleasure, is much deeper and
more certain.' The feeling with which one
views how one has lived one's life and how one's friend has answered one's
needs is not the same as the feeling of familiarity one senses with the
friend in one's own being. For when one sees that one has sacrificed one's life
and that the needs of the friend have been met, the spirit in the heights of
its subtleness and the depths of its feelings where friendship and faith form
another spirit within the self senses a relatedness with the spirit of
friendship. Perhaps both feelings are the same, but they have opposite orientations.
No. They are not the same because to give friendship and to give love are not
one and the same thing.
And Fatima gave such friendship
to the Prophet that there is no comparison to one who gives love to one's
father. The intimacy and purity of feelings which she had towards him created a
continuous link and a situation incapable of being described. With the spirit
of her father within, she was able to bear the years of difficulties, hatred.
feat and torture. She bore the fact that her hero father was sacrificed for he
was among those who remained a stranger in his own country, an unknown in his
own city, alone among his family, those who spoke his language. He remained
without someone to talk to. He had to confront all sides. He had to stand face to
face with ignorance and idol worship, in wild conflicts with untamed elders,
petty aristocrats and hated slave dealers.
His shoulders were bent under the
heavy weight of the divine mission of the One God, alone in this long walk from
slavery to freedom, from the dark valleys of Mecca to the heights of the peaks
of the mountain of Light, alone and without a companion while his soul was
suffering from the hatred, plots and un-awarenesses of the people and his body
was wounded from the troubles and blows of the enemy. He tried harder than
anyone else to bring happiness and salvation to the tribe he was appointed to
and yet he and his family suffered because of the trouble his tribe caused him.
They treated him as a stranger.
On the one hand, he was alone, a
suffering spirit, bearer of the Revelation and on the other, he was a storm of
love and fiery faith. Tribal enmity, the unconsciousness of the people, the
loneliness of not having anyone and the heavy weight of the load of the trust'
he had brought caused him anguish. God had offered the burden of bearing the
weight of the heavens and the earth to the mountains but it was rejected. Only
mankind was willing to accept the responsibility. In following this, the
Prophet, everyday, from morning until night, would cry out a warning to
whomever passed by the Safa Hill of the danger the people who were asleep and
passive faced. He did this under the rain of problems that sought him out each
day.
He announces the message in the
sacred precinct of the Masjid al Haram, beside the dar al‑madweh, the meeting place of the wealthy Qoraish
aristocrats and before the eyes of 330 dumb, senseless, spiritless idols who
are the gods of the people. He calls the people to awaken. He cries for
freedom. At the end of the day, tired and exhausted, wounded internally, his
heart overflowing with pain, he returns to a silent home empty handed, followed
by mockery. Within his home there is a woman broken under the sufferings of
life, her body any! her whole existence full of love, her two eyes waiting in
anticipation, watching the door.
Fatima, a young girl, weak, moves
step by step with her father through the streets full of hatred, within the
Masjid al Haram under the taunts of curses, mockery, contempt and
difficulties. Whenever he falls he becomes like a bird that has fallen out of
the nest. When a bird falls from its nest, the possibility arises that it will
fall into the claws and beaks of wild animals or birds. Fatima throws herself
upon her father. With all of her strength, she protects him. With her small,
fine hands, she takes her hero into her arms. With the edge of her small, fine
fingers, alive with kindness, she cleans the blood from her father's head and
hands. She heals his wounds with her soft words. She encourages the man who
carries the Word of God. She returns him to their home.
She is a link of kindness,
attraction and love between a suffering mother, and a suffering father. When
her bloodied father returns from Taif, she alone comes forward to greet him
and with her child like, endearing efforts, attracts him to herself, inspite of
all of his worries and troubles. She attracts his heart towards her warm reception.
In the valley of the confine she
lives three years beside her sad, bed ridden, elderly mother and a suffering
father with all of his difficulties. She bears hunger, sorrow, loneliness.
After the death of her mother and the uncle of the great Prophet, she fills the
sudden emptiness of the life of her father with her feelings, kindness and
endless understanding for he is now alone both within the home and outside of
it.
She acts as a mother to her
father who is now very much alone. She devotes love, faith and all the moments
of her life to her father. Through her kindness, the feelings of her father are
fulfilled. Through her devotion and faith in the mission of her father, she
gives him energy and honor.
By going to Ali's house and by
accepting his noble poverty, she gives him hope. Through Hasan, Hosein and
Zainab she offers her father the sweetest and dearest fruits of her life, full
of sorrows in return for the fact that her father did not have a son and had
seen the death of his three infant sons and three grown daughters. These are
the roots. They are deeper than those of the feelings of a child which extend
for her whole life of 18 or 28 years. Stronger than life, purer than will and
faith, richer than liking someone and at the same time woven together from all
of the golden webs of the beyond are all created in the soul, depth and
conscience of Fatima. They join her with the spirit of her father.
And now all of these roots
suddenly become disconnected through the thorn of the death of her father.
Fatima must now 'remain' without him and 'live'. How terrifying and heavy is
this blow to the thin heart and weak body of Fatima, this girl who is alive
only through love of her father, through faith in the faith of her father and
because of her father.
It is no accident that the
Prophet, upon his deathbed, consoles her and gives her the strength, the strength
of bearing her father's death. This strength is the only gift from the death of
her dear one. This special news is that she will join him sooner than any of
the others.
Because Fatima is afflicted with
the heaviest blow which nature in its power can give, she suddenly falls into
the most painful and most broken state. The death of her father is enough for
her but another blow comes to her as well, a blow which even though it did not
have the strength of the first, it was at least as deep and perhaps deeper. The
hand of fate gives her no respite, the second blow follows close upon the first
with only a few hours separation.
'Someone else is elected to take
the place of the Prophet.' What difference does it make if this person was Abu
Bakr or anyone else for that matter. It is not Ali.
