DAILYREFLECTION
He who has in his heart the weight of a mustard seed of pride shall not enter Paradise. A person (amongst his hearers) said: Verily a person loves that his dress should be fine, and his shoes should be fine. He (the Holy Prophet) remarked: Verily, Allah is Graceful and He loves Grace. Pride is disdaining the truth (out of self-conceit) and contempt for the people.
By the second exchange of an argument last night, we knew the other person had the facts. We kept going for twenty more minutes.
We no longer believed our side. Ending it meant saying "you were right," and those three words would not come out.
This is our confession, and its small size is the whole difficulty. We never call it pride; we call it being tired, or misquoted, or the other person having a tone.
When a man asked the Prophet ﷺ whether loving fine clothes counted as pride, the Prophet ﷺ set that fear aside gently, then named the disease in two parts: disdaining the truth, and holding people in contempt.
The truth we disdained was small: the correct date, what we said in March, the faster route.
The contempt was small too. A flicker of who are they to correct us, aimed at a spouse, a colleague, a fifteen-year-old.
A mustard seed. The Prophet ﷺ chose the smallest weight his listeners knew, and we have spent years assuming pride only comes in large sizes.
We have lost count of how often we have done this. The past seven days alone hold more than one.
What did it cost the other person, to be right and still have to wait for us?
We are still inside this one. The sentence is three words long, and we would rather write four hundred than say it.
Ya Allah, make the truth light on our tongues, even when someone else is the one holding it.
SUNNAHSTORIES
Rafi the Ram and the Shorter Path
Rafi the ram knew every path on the mountain, and he said so often.
One morning his little sister Lulu pointed at a narrow trail. "This one reaches the spring faster."
"That trail goes nowhere," said Rafi, and he led the flock the long way round.
Halfway there, Rafi saw Lulu's trail from above. It ran straight to the water. His was twice as long and full of stones.
He walked faster so no one would notice his ears going hot. Old Nana Zohra, who noticed everything, fell into step beside him.
"You saw it, didn't you," she said.
Rafi's hooves felt heavy. "If I say she was right, they will all know I was wrong."
"They already know, habibi. What they do not know yet is whether you are brave."
At the spring, Rafi drank, took a breath, and turned to Lulu in front of everyone. "You were right. Your path was better. Tomorrow you lead."
Lulu's eyes went wide. The flock said nothing, and then a few of the older ewes nodded slowly, the way sheep nod when they respect someone.
That night Rafi felt lighter than he had in years, and he had not lost a single thing.
Saying "you were right" makes us bigger, never smaller.