How Hearts Change...

“What conversation are you having inside yourself?”

I walk around the crowded streets of Manhattan, listening to the calls of the sneaker sellers, the street meat vendors, passing rows and rows of plants and flowers that crowd the side streets below the garment district. I walk to the mosque in the middle of the day to pray my midday prayers.

One day as I was leaving I came upon a young Bengali brother who I knew from going to Baruch College. We chatted and talked and he walked me near to my block – going about 5 blocks out of his way to accommodate me. The next day we met again, and I paid him the same courtesy and we walked 5 blocks out of my direction. He told me a story:

He said it was a Hadith, which I cannot narrate the chain of authenticity so please forgive me. I will relate what he told me because it is relevant in terms of our responsibility to one another, our understanding of what it means to lives as brothers and sisters on this planet earth, and for its connection to the concept of justice in Islam.

The false choice we make in the United States is between a sense of a collective responsibility and our so-called rugged individualism. Obama mentioned it in his speech on health care last night. And it comes to mind when I think of the story the young brother related.

He said that in the time of the Prophet  - peace and blessings be upon him – there was a very rich man praying, and a very poor man lined up next to him and began praying. The rich man brushed off his shoulder signaling that he did not want to pray next to this poor man. Upon the end of the salat the Prophet was told of this and subsequently commanded the rich man to give the poor man half of his wealth. The poor man refused the wealth because he did not want to become such as the rich man. Allah knows best, forgive me if I have related it wrong.

“What conversation are you having inside yourself?”

So I began walking back to my office, over one block, down another, into the dregs of the garment district where they fix sewing machines and hagglers wrestle over the price of thread and needles, then over another block and down a stretch. En route I came upon a fruit vendor selling an assortment that included dates. I rarely see a fruit vendor selling dates (especially during Ramadan) so I bought 4 for a dollar and he put them (wastefully) into a plastic bag. Clutching the plastic bag I proceeded along my merry way until I turned on a street I rarely turn and then to my left saw a young man sitting against a building with a sign on cardboard written in English saying that he was homeless, hungry, and would accept any assistance. He was different than the other people in The City with these types of signs. Why? Because he was NOT white. Usually I see young wayward white youth hawking in NYC in this manner.

This man was Indian. Not what I expected to see. I passed him then turned back and of course gave him the bag with the dates. The smile on his face was enough to make me tear. Not because what I did was so special, but because we shared a very human moment. I was ecstatic for that smile – I may have made his day but he seriously made mine.

“What conversation are you having inside yourself?”

THE conversation --- about hearts and how they change:

Comments

[Maheen]

Great post. Thanks for the video as well.

[Hira]

Great post mashallah. we even take smiles for granted, it seems...thanks for the story :>