Where Is the Love?

Salman and Arshad work at the same organization founded by their Shaykh. Salman is among the oldest disciples of the Shaykh, one in whom the Shaykh places complete and unquestioning trust. Arshad, on the other hand, has joined this organization recently. He dreams of serving it until his last breath, for he has always been deeply passionate about uniting his profession with a higher purpose. He devotes himself wholeheartedly to this work, considering it an act of worship, and thus finds himself in the good books of the Shaykh.

Salman begins to notice the exceptional qualities in Arshad and grows inwardly uneasy at the thought that Arshad might become the blue-eyed boy in the eyes of the Shaykh, rise above him in rank, or even replace him altogether. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, evil creeps into his intentions, and he forgets the very lessons of virtue once taught by his Shaykh. He takes full advantage of the depth of trust his Shaykh has in him. Day after day, he poisons the Shaykh's perception-subtly twisting facts and casting Arshad in a negative light. Eventually, he succeeds in his design, and the Shaykh, utterly unaware of the truth, sends a termination notice to Arshad.

Arshad's heart shatters into a million pieces. First, because the Shaykh had once assured him that this would be a long-term and permanent affiliation. Second, because his dedication, commitment, and loyalty now seem to have been rendered meaningless. Third, because the architect behind this betrayal is none other than someone widely regarded as deeply virtuous-the most respected in the entire circle. With a single piece of paper, the Shaykh has wiped away all the aspirations for which Arshad had lived with his entire mind, heart, and soul. What a devastating blow to a servant of Islam.

This is not fiction; it is the lived reality of many people in this world who become victims of a form of "religion" in which people grow long beards, wear grand turbans, and adorn themselves in clothing resembling that of the Holy Prophet ﷺ-yet when their actions are presented before the Final Messenger ﷺ, he would feel immeasurable pain at witnessing what his followers inflict upon their own brothers, leaving bitterness and wounds in one another's hearts. The damage, in such cases, is often irreversible.

When the renowned Qur'anic scholar Nouman Ali Khan remarks that Muslims are among the worst advertisers and representatives of Islam, his observation is not without truth.

This leads us back to the very definition of a Muslim. What did the Prophet ﷺ say? "A Muslim is the one from whose tongue and hand other Muslims are safe." This was the criterion upon which the entire society of the first generation of Muslims was built; this was the very foundation of Islam. And the blessed Companions left no stone unturned in embodying this standard. It is for this reason that they attained the heights that were bestowed upon them.

At this point, one cannot help but recall the golden words of the modern saint, Wasif Ali Wasif (رحمة الله عليه). On one occasion, he said, "The breaker of hearts can never find God." On another occasion, when asked what sulook (the spiritual path) truly is, he did not respond by saying, "Perform muraqba (meditation) a thousand times a day." Instead, he said, "How you treat your fellow human beings is your spiritual path." There is profound wisdom in this, for on the Day of Judgment, among all deeds, the heaviest weight will belong to our conduct with others.

The proof of the veracity of Islam lies in the fact that its light did not remain confined to fourteen centuries ago. The candles continued to be lit across generations, giving rise to countless saints thereafter. Among these towering figures was none other than Khawaja Nizamuddin Auliya (رحمة الله عليه). What did he say about conduct? And more importantly, what did he demonstrate through his life?

"The essence of closeness to God is not found in rituals alone, but in how gently you deal with His creation. Whoever eases the pain of another eases his own path to God."

"If you wish to win the pleasure of God, then win the hearts of people. A broken heart is more precious than a thousand acts of worship."

"Do not look at what people are; look at what they are in need of. Respond to their need, not their faults."

"The one who loves God must love His creation. Without compassion for people, claims of love for God remain incomplete."

It is narrated that food would be distributed daily at his khanqah (Sufi centre), and he never allowed anyone to be turned away-regardless of religion, status, or background. Even when provisions were scarce, he would say, "Feed them first. God will provide." And time and again, provisions would arrive from the most unexpected sources.

On one occasion, a person spoke harshly to him and showed open disrespect. Those around him were angered, but he remained composed and said, "If someone brings you thorns, return flowers." He neither rebuked the man nor allowed bitterness to take root within his heart.

It is reported that no one ever left his presence feeling rejected. Even those who came burdened with complaints, arrogance, or insincerity were received with patience and dignity. He believed, "It is not our role to judge who deserves kindness. Kindness itself is our duty."

When people would speak ill of others in his presence, he would gently stop them and say, "Speak of your own faults, not the faults of others." In doing so, he redirected attention from criticism to self-awareness, thereby preserving the dignity of those who were absent.

There was a person who bore deep hostility toward him and had even gone so far as to subject him to physical harm and persecution. Despite this, Khawaja Nizamuddin Auliya (رحمة الله عليه) never responded with retaliation or resentment. When news came that this same individual had passed away, people expected that he would remain distant, given the suffering he had endured at his hands. Instead, he personally attended his funeral. Those around him were astonished and questioned how he could show such regard for someone who had treated him so harshly.

In response, his conduct conveyed a profound principle: enmity belongs to actions, not to the essence of a person. When a person departs from this world, what remains is his humanity-not his hostility. By attending the funeral, he demonstrated that personal pain does not justify the withdrawal of compassion; that dignity must be upheld even for those who failed to uphold it; and that love, when rooted in truth, is not conditional upon how one is treated. He did not deny what had been done to him-but he refused to let it define his response.

This incident stands as one of the clearest living examples of love beyond reaction, compassion beyond justice, and character over ego. What emerges from both his words and actions is a consistent principle: love is not merely a feeling-it is a way of engaging with people. It is neither selective nor reactive, but constant-regardless of the behavior of others.

Khawaja Nizamuddin Auliya (رحمة الله عليه) passed away seven centuries ago, yet his name, work, and legacy remain alive even today, while the name of his oppressor has faded into oblivion. Why? Because he embodied a stream flowing from the ocean of the conduct of the Holy Prophet ﷺ, who said, "I have only been sent to perfect noble character (makārim al-akhlaq)." The Prophet ﷺ also said, "No one humbles himself for the sake of Allah except that Allah raises him."

A serious student of knowledge might ask why we witness a lack of brotherhood within religious circles if they are truly religious. There are two dimensions to this issue: one rooted in human nature, and the other in how religion itself is understood. Let us reflect upon both.

Feeling discomfort upon seeing exceptional qualities in another is jealousy-a condition that has existed in human beings since Adam and Eve. Yet when we study the lives of the blessed Companions of the Prophet ﷺ, we find that they were not afflicted by this disease in the way we observe today. For instance, on multiple occasions, Umar ibn al-Khattab (رضي الله عنه) openly acknowledged the greatness of Ali ibn Abi Talib (رضي الله عنه), saying, "If there had been no Ali, Umar would have been destroyed." What was the mindset that protected them from jealousy?

They had grasped a profound truth that the modern Muslim has yet to fully internalize: the purpose of life is to attain closeness to God. Since God is infinite, He can bestow His splendour upon all without any diminution of His majesty. There is no scarcity of divine grace that would limit it to only a select few. This implies that no human being can deprive me of my proximity to God. If someone else ascends in spiritual rank, it does not diminish my own. On the contrary, assisting others in this journey only elevates my own station in the sight of God. Thus, no one can cause me to fail in the true purpose of life-and helping others only ensures greater success.

That is why the only "competition" that existed among the Companions was in the pursuit of virtue-and this is the only form of competition that can remain truly pure and healthy. There was no rivalry among them for material success or worldly glory. Their hearts were vessels of Tauheed (Oneness of God), which naturally gives rise to unity of purpose. Today, however, religious people often possess only the claim of seeking God alone, while their conduct reveals attachment to many other pursuits occupying their hearts. This concludes the first dimension.

Secondly, a statement widely attributed to the Holy Prophet ﷺ is: "Difference of opinion in my Ummah will be a blessing." The practical conduct of the blessed Companions serves as a living illustration of the beauty behind this idea. It is not that they were devoid of intellectual differences-they were not. Like any human society, they differed. Yet those differences never became a source of hostility among them. They had learned from their teacher that two differing actions can both be correct, so long as the intention, the path, and the destination remain aligned. Since such differences allowed for diversity within the fold of Islam, they became a source of richness rather than division.

Today, however, one of the greatest enemies of brotherhood is precisely this difference of opinion-and there seems to be no end to it. People are often trained within their respective religious circles in such a way that they come to believe they alone possess the truth, while others are reduced to insignificance. When they encounter those from different schools of thought, friction becomes inevitable-whether visible or concealed. They no longer view others through the clear lens of the first generation of Muslims. Their vision becomes clouded, their minds narrow, and their hearts constricted. They lose the capacity to embrace others as part of the family of God.

No sect, faction, or school of thought is entirely free from this affliction; all are, in one way or another, touched by it. The result is evident all around us. There exists a vast ocean of content-particularly on platforms like YouTube-dedicated to declaring others wrong: "this belief is wrong," "this sect is wrong," "this scholar is wrong," "this Sufi is wrong," "this group is wrong." Whether one identifies as Sufi or non-Sufi, one cannot deny that this is not service to Islam-it is disservice of the highest order. When the youth or an outsider witnesses this spectacle, they are repelled. The image that emerges is one of chaos and ugliness, and religion is stripped of its divine beauty.

The solution to this crisis cannot be merely intellectual, because the problem itself is not merely intellectual-it is deeply spiritual. A healthy human society does not eliminate differences, nor does it impose uniformity through force. Rather, it nurtures such depth of spirituality within its people that their compassion surpasses their desire for uniformity of thought. It cultivates a state in which, when a Sunni meets a Shia, they greet one another with warmth, sit together, and share a meal-without feeling compelled to challenge or invalidate one another's beliefs.

The Prophet ﷺ described a man of Paradise as one "...who has no malice, hatred, or envy in his heart toward any Muslim."

Saints like Baba Fariduddin Ganj Shakar (رحمة الله عليه) and Rumi (رحمة الله عليه) did not organize conferences on interfaith harmony. Yet when they passed away, both Muslims and non-Muslims wept. Why? In them, religion was bathed in divinity.

If we examine the practice of religion in the contemporary Muslim world, everything appears to be present-the institutions, the gatherings, the sermons, the books, the teachers, the students, the emotions, the passion, the claims, the slogans, the rituals, the burkas, the supplications, the prayer beads (tasbeeh), the discussions, the debates, the recitation, the commentaries, the degrees, the programs, the organizations, the movements, the processions, the events, the appearances, the hijab-it is all there. Then what is missing?

Where is the love? Where is the love? Where is the love?

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