The seasons change, and now the dry season has returned. Forest fires have broken out once again, the earth is scorched, and the sky above our cities is sweltering under the relentless heat.
In circumstances such as these, the most pleasant thing to do, of course, would be to take a holiday at a mountain villa, soak in a swimming pool, or simply spend the whole day shut away in an air-conditioned room.
But all of that can only be enjoyed by the wealthy. Those without means are forced to accept things as they are. Pedicab drivers must keep pedalling their becaks. Motorcycle taxi drivers must continue faithfully carrying their passengers. Construction workers must endure sweat pouring from their bodies more heavily than usual. Farmers must still go out to their fields. Fishermen must continue sailing out to sea to catch fish as they always have. Even beggars continue to hold out their hands, despite the sun piercing directly down upon their heads.
Such is life: a livelihood must continually be fought for so that life itself can continue. So that the stomachs of beloved children remain full, because when hunger strikes, people can lose their way. An empty stomach can drag someone towards the path of sin. Yet, with a full stomach, people may instead forget the Ruler of the universe. Abundant wealth can make people forget that, in truth, there is One who is the Most Wealthy.
This dry season, I suddenly remembered a story told by Murtadha Muthahhari about Abu Amr Syaibani and Imam Ja’far Shadiq. It is said that, during an exceptionally long dry season, Syaibani travelled to a village to visit his friend, Imam Ja’far. From a distance, Syaibani saw Ja’far hoeing the garden. When Syaibani arrived, sweat could be seen pouring from Ja’far’s body, while the hoe remained firmly gripped in his darkened hand.
Syaibani assumed that Ja’far, who was quite wealthy, had been unable to find workers to cultivate his land. So he said, “Give me your hoe. Let me do the hoeing for you.”
But what was Ja’far’s reply?
“I truly admire a person who is struck by the scorching sun while seeking his livelihood,” he said.
Murtadha Muthahhari also tells the story of an ascetic named Muhammad bin Munkadir, who one day travelled into the city. Along a road scorched by the heat of a long dry season, he saw an extremely stout man being supported by two black slaves. Munkadir murmured to himself: what merchant could possibly be so preoccupied with worldly affairs in such unbearable heat? He assumed that the wealthy man was travelling on business.
When he came closer, his assumption proved correct. The stout man was none other than Imam al-Baqir, a wealthy man who was also a leader of his people. Munkadir then rebuked him with words full of meaning.
“May Allah set you right, O shaykh. At this hour of the day, and in weather this scorching, you are still leaving your house to attend to worldly affairs. What would happen if death were to overtake you in such a situation?” he said.
But what was al-Baqir’s response?
“By Allah, I would be proud to die while seeking my livelihood in this way. What I fear is death coming to me while I am committing a sin,” he replied.
Therefore, what we ought to do is not to feel excessive pity for those who struggle to earn a living through hard work. Rather, we should show respect for their steadfastness in enduring the hardships of life. (alminhatta)
