Full transcript (AI generated)
Alhamdulillah, we praise Allah for allowing us to gather on this beautiful—if a little chilly—morning. Alhamdulillah for this amazing weather.
It was lovely to see the president of the Islamic society in red and white today. To our Indonesian brothers and sisters: Selamat Hari Kemerdekaan—Happy Independence Day. Eighty years since independence—may Allah keep your nation in peace and strength.
If anyone needs proof that Islam was not spread by the sword, just look at our region. You don’t find armies forcing Islam upon the people there. Rather, traders—many from Hadramawt in Yemen—came to the Indonesian archipelago. The Indonesians were impressed by their honesty and akhlaq. The sultans and rulers accepted Islam, and as was common then, when a king accepted a faith, much of his people followed.
Some argue, “But what about the Indian subcontinent—Pakistan and India—didn’t Islam spread there by northern armies?” Even there, the heart of Islam’s spread was da‘wah and reason, not compulsion.
Look at Syria and Egypt. Egypt was opened by ‘Amr ibn al-‘Ās in the time of ‘Umar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb. Syria and Damascus were opened by Khālid ibn al-Walīd. Muslims ruled those lands, yet it took 500 years before Syria became majority Muslim, and around 300 years for Egypt. If Islam were spread by force, everyone would have “converted” within decades. History shows otherwise.
Consider also the monastery of St Catherine in Sinai. It predates Islam, and they proudly claim to hold a letter from the Prophet ﷺ guaranteeing the safety of Christians in Egypt. Whether or not you accept the document, the point stands: Islam lived alongside other faiths. In greater Bilād al-Shām—what we call the Levant—multiple religions have long flourished.
A stable nation is a great blessing from Allah. One of the early scholars said: I make du‘ā’ for our rulers, that Allah rectifies their affairs. When asked, “Why not just make du‘ā’ for yourself?” he replied, “If I pray for myself, only I benefit. If I pray for the ruler, everyone benefits.” Even if a ruler is flawed, there is no harm in asking Allah to guide them and make them just—because a just leader benefits all.
When we talk about nation-states, let’s be honest: many borders are colonial lines. What separates Malaysia and Indonesia? We are one people in so many ways. We speak closely related languages. Historically, the region has been called by many names: the Malay world, the archipelago, even Jāwī—so scholars from our lands were known in the Arab world as “al-Jāwī,” whether they were Javanese, Malay, Bugis, Makassarese, or others. The difference between Malaysia and Indonesia today largely traces to the Dutch and the British.
So how do we relate to nation-states? Two extremes exist. One says, “There is no nation—only the Ummah—restore the Khilāfah now.” The other says, “I will die for this colonial line.” The truth, as our scholars remind us, is the balanced middle path. We are one Ummah of Muhammad ﷺ, and we also live in nation-states. Attempts to tear down states overnight have, in recent history, brought much harm. We live within reality while never forgetting the greater reality: every Muslim we meet is our brother or sister in faith, and that bond is sacred.
The Prophet ﷺ himself showed us how to balance love of homeland. He loved Makkah—his birthplace, the land of his ancestors, home of the Ka‘bah built by Ibrāhīm and Ismā‘īl. He left only because it became unsafe—he was forced out. On his way out he turned back and said, “O Makkah, had my people not expelled me, I would never have left you.” But when he migrated to Madīnah, he loved it too, and made du‘ā’: “O Allah, make us love Madīnah as we love Makkah, or even more,” and, “O Allah, bless Madīnah twice what You blessed Makkah.”
He became part of Madīnah’s community—integrating Muhājirīn and Anṣār, building a strong society—while his heart still loved Makkah. That’s balance.
Many of us here were born elsewhere—Malaysia, Indonesia, Lebanon, and beyond—and migrated to Australia. Love your country of origin; that’s natural and from the sunnah of fitrah. But also accept the reality: we live here now by choice. So contribute here. Build here. Strengthen community here. Loving Australia doesn’t mean hating your country of origin, and loving your homeland doesn’t mean ignoring the reality and responsibilities of this country that has given us so much. Ask: How can I make this country, this society, this community better?
I often say: loving the country you live in—serving it—is following the sunnah, because that’s what the Prophet ﷺ did in Madīnah. Wherever a Muslim goes, they make the place better. In Malay we say: a good seed grows wherever it lands—even on a mountain. That’s the believer: wherever we go, we leave goodness.
Today I want to focus on Sūrat al-Ḥujurāt—a chapter I call the community’s Standard Operating Procedure. It was revealed in late Madīnan years—around year 9 AH—barely over a year before the Prophet’s passing. Year 9 is known as ‘Ām al-Wufūd—the Year of Delegations—with tribes pouring into Madīnah to pledge allegiance: sometimes politically, sometimes religiously.
Look at the numbers to feel the context. In Makkah, after 13 years of da‘wah, roughly 80-plus men migrated with the Prophet ﷺ. Within two years in Madīnah, that number grew to around 300. At Uḥud, around 700 fought; by al-Khandaq, 3,000. At the Fath (Conquest) of Makkah in year 8, 10,000. By the Prophet’s Ḥajj in year 10, more than 120,000. Exponential growth. What fueled it? One key event was the Treaty of al-Ḥudaybiyyah in year 6: a period of peace. In times of war, growth was modest; in times of peace, da‘wah flourished. Islam spreads best with safety, honesty, and service—not with the sword.
Now to al-Ḥujurāt itself—“the Chambers”—named after the simple living quarters of the Prophet ﷺ. Despite becoming the most influential man in Arabia, his home was about 5m x 5m. Think of an IKEA showcase room—that’s roughly the size. Before Khaybar, the Sahābah often tied stones to their stomachs from hunger. After Khaybar, prosperity came to the community, but the Prophet’s personal lifestyle didn’t change. When his household’s income increased, he didn’t buy a bigger house or a fancier camel. He increased in infaq—in giving. Some of his wives understandably asked for more comfort. Allah revealed that the Prophet’s family are held to a higher standard, choosing Allah and the Ākhirah over worldly luxury. (Brothers, don’t take this as ammunition against your wives—we are not prophets, and our families are not the Mothers of the Believers. Balance is key. The Prophet also taught that the best charity is what you spend on your family.)
The sūrah begins: “O you who believe, do not put yourselves before Allah and His Messenger.” Our feelings and preferences take a back seat when the command of Allah and His Messenger is clear. But clarity matters—this is why the Ummah has tafāsīr and scholarship. In the time of ‘Alī and Mu‘āwiyah, the Khawārij claimed, “Back to Qur’ān and Sunnah!” ‘Alī brought the muṣḥaf and said, “Let the Qur’ān speak.” They said, “It can’t.” Exactly—we need scholars; the Qur’ān is interpreted and applied through qualified understanding.
Next, adab with the Prophet ﷺ: “Do not raise your voices above the voice of the Prophet…” The context: in the Year of Delegations, Abū Bakr and ‘Umar were assigning officials to receive tribes. Their discussion became loud—near the Prophet ﷺ. Allah revealed the warning that raising voices in his presence could nullify deeds. From then, they barely spoke above a whisper before him. One Companion with a naturally loud voice stopped attending the masjid out of fear. The Prophet ﷺ noticed his absence (as was his habit after ṣalāh) and reassured him.
How is this relevant now? When you visit al-Rawḍah in Madīnah, remember your adab—don’t push, don’t argue. And more broadly: respect the Sunnah and ḥadīth. Don’t weaponise ḥadīth to defeat one another. Imām Mālik would bathe, dress well, and apply perfume before narrating ḥadīth—because these are the words of the Prophet ﷺ. His mother told him when he was a child: “Learn your teacher’s manners before his knowledge.” Many giants of our tradition were raised by remarkable mothers—may Allah increase the piety of our families.
Now, the central ayah for our time—49:6:
If a fāsiq brings you news, verify (fatabayyanū), lest you harm people out of ignorance and become regretful.
Another qirā’ah reads fatathabbātū—establish the truth carefully. Both meanings are needed: verify the facts(tathabbūt) and clarify the context (tabayyun). Something can be factually true but contextually misunderstood. This ayah was revealed when a zakat-collector panicked at the stern-looking welcome of a Bedouin tribe, returned to Madīnah, and reported refusal to pay. War was nearly launched—until the matter was checked and clarified. It was simply a misreading of their manner.
Brothers and sisters, we live in an age of instant forwarding. “Shared as received” does not absolve us. Better not to share than to spread harm. The Prophet ﷺ said it’s enough falsehood for a person to relay everything they hear. We will be accountable for what we circulate.
Next, Allah addresses conflict: “If two groups of believers fight, make peace between them.” Note: believers—disagreement and even fights can sadly occur in this world. Our job is to be peacemakers—afshū al-salām—not arsonists who inflame tensions.
Then Allah forbids mockery, belittling nicknames, and demeaning jokes. A one-off joke may pass; repeated “teasing” cuts the heart. Joke with people, not at them. Give good nicknames—like the Prophet ﷺ did with Abū Hurayrah, “father of kittens,” because he loved cats.
Finally, the universal ayah—49:13:
“O mankind, We created you from male and female, and made you into peoples and tribes so that you may know one another…”
Islam doesn’t merely tolerate difference—it celebrates it. Li-ta‘ārafū—so you can truly know one another. Our diversity is a strength, not a weakness.
A small story from campus days: we used to hold ifṭār at the Hacker Café. When policy changes demanded payment for bookings, the Malays among us—known for adab and non-confrontation—were ready to accept and move on. Our Arab brothers said, “No, this is our right; let’s advocate.” Alhamdulillah, by different strengths working together, we kept the space. Sometimes a firm voice is needed; sometimes a calming voice. We need each other.
Even our food is multicultural. Malaysians and Indonesians love sambal, but chilli isn’t native to us—it came via Iberian traders after their colonisation of the Americas. They found it too spicy and passed it along; we said, “Bismillah—this is amazing!” Now, a meal without sambal hardly feels complete. That’s multiculturalism on a plate.
The Anṣār and Muhājirīn had different temperaments. The Prophet ﷺ praised the Anṣārī women for their confidence in asking questions—something Makkan women initially found difficult. Different strengths, one Ummah. Be like the beethat seeks flowers, not the fly that looks for wounds.
Even our differences in madhāhib and approaches are strengths. Teaching ‘aqīdah to children benefits from the clarity and simplicity associated with “Salafī” pedagogy; engaging philosophers and other faiths may require the tools preserved in Ash‘arī and Māturīdī kalām. In fiqh, our differences are a mercy. I came from a Shāfi‘ī background where Jumu‘ah requires forty settled men. Early on here, I looked out and counted twenty-eight—then remembered I hadn’t checked visa statuses! Alhamdulillah for Ḥanafī fiqh, where a much smaller number suffices. Our differences, handled with adab, make life easier, not harder. The line is only crossed when difference turns to violence or takfīr over minor issues.
Thank you for spending your precious, cold winter morning with me. We ask Allah to accept this from us.
We make du‘ā’ that Allah blesses Indonesia with peace, prosperity, and barakah for her people; that He blesses the entire Ummah; that He blesses Australia and guides its leaders to make wise decisions for the public good—not just for narrow economic interests of some quarter.
We ask Allah to protect our brothers and sisters in Palestine, especially Gaza. O Allah, they are hungry—feed them. They are surrounded from every direction—but all directions belong to You. Protect them. Grant the martyrs the highest Jannah. Reunite parents and children separated by rubble, and reunite us with them in Jannah. Do not let our hearts turn away from them when the world turns its back. Use us as means for their aid and liberation. Guide us, employ us in Your service, and accept from us, O Most Merciful.
Āmīn.
This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bequranic.substack.com/subscribe
