Isn’t it ironic that such an incident would occur after a whole weekend of delving in the manners and etiquettes of the scholars of Islam? Last night, as I brooded over the incident, automatically inviting insomnia to blanket me until I fell asleep, I felt quite disheartened, regretful, and sad over the whole thing.
My two kiddoes, Zaza, (eight) and Juju (nine) wanted so much to take the AlMaghrib class Torch Bearers, and alhamdulillah they managed to. We had a very (I’m not exaggerating) long weekend, but a very beneficial one alhamdulillah. As I’m typing, Juju is asking me,
“Do we know what the next class is yet?”
They’re excited about the next class.
This morning I continued last night’s brooding and pondering over the incident. I realized and learned one thing : The Muslim adults of today lack mercy with children, and this is first and foremost a reminder and reprimand for myself before anyone else.
We tend to treat children as unimportant little people who are expected to romp about and not have anything valuable to contribute. Honestly, I find this opposite to the way the Prophet sallaallaahu alayhi wasallam used to treat children. He used to ask their opinions, include them in gatherings, honor them by treating them with respect, and most importantly, he never treated them as if they don’t matter, as if they’re invisible.
These are a few examples of his treatment of our younger section of the ummah:
Allah’s Messenger was particularly compassionate towards children. When he saw a child crying, he sat beside him or her and shared his or her feelings. He felt the pain of a mother for her child more than the mother herself. Once he said: “I stand in prayer and wish to prolong it. However, I hear the cry of a child and cut the prayer short for the anxiety which the mother is feeling.” (Al-Bukhari)
He would take children in his arms and embrace them. He was once hugging his beloved grandsons, Hasan and Hussain, when Aqrah bin Haabis told him, ‘I have got ten children. So far, I have not kissed any of them.’ Allah’s Messenger responded: “The one with no pity for others is not pitied.” (Al-Bukhari and Muslim)
Sahl ibn Sa’d said that the Prophet was brought a cup and he drank from it. There was a boy, the youngest of all the people, on his right and some elders on his left. He said, “O young boy, will you allow me to give this to these elders?” The boy said, “I will not give away my share of your blessings to anyone, O Messenger of Allaah,” so he gave the cup to him. (Reported by al-Bukhaari, 2180)
Last night, at the conclusion of Torch Bearers, Sheikh Waleed had us stand in line to get our Ijaazah from him. To me, that ijaazah is not an equivalent of a college degree,or even a Phd, but more. It connects us to the Prophet sallaallahu alayhi wasallam via a chain of shuyuukh from which we learn from, and so, that Ijaazah matters a lot. At first, as we were standing in line, I admit to feeling a little apprehensive about my children.
Could they get the Ijaazah too? They’re just kids, way underaged. Such an important thing shouldn’t be given to mere kids, should it?
But I made Juju stand in line with me anyway. When her turn came, Sheikh Waleed did give her the Ijaazah. Since it was just the sisters’ line, I didn’t think of calling Zaza to join us, expecting him to stand in line with the men. It was only after Juju and I received the Ijaazah that I thought of telling Zaza to join the sisters’ line so we won’t be waiting for him too long. So he did.
Subhanallah. It was as if he was invisible! When his turn came, Sheikh Waleed called out,
“Any other sisters who hasn’t gotten their ijaazah?”
Rh came down and got hers, bypassing Zaza who was then just hanging by the Sheikh’s table. Then the Sheikh called the brothers and they formed a line. I told Zaza to go and not let anyone go in front of him. Again, it was as if he was invisible. The brothers cut him, the Sheikh appeared not to see him, and as I kept telling him to take his place, he came to me, hung his head down, and insisted that he didn’t want the ijaazah. I coaxed him, telling him that I will ask the Sheikh myself but he flatly refused, and he cried, but it wasn’t tears of sadness, it was tears of anger.
He no longer cared about getting the Ijaazah. He stomped out and I told him to get his binder.
“I don’t want it!”
Well, we went home without him getting his Ijaazah. When I asked him later why he was mad, his angry tears came again. Apparently, he was mad at the Sheikh for not seeing him. Whereas I was incredulous at the brothers for going in front of him. And I regretted not having Zaza with me. I thought that the people in that class would not be so callous as to ignore him like that.
Suffice it to say, I was pretty disappointed. It’s not about the Ijaazah anymore. it’s about how adults treat children. I do realize that the class is for adults, and that my kids are underaged but allowed by HQ to attend it. I realize that they might not understand the material as an adult would. But that is no reason to ignore them.
In this society, we have gotten used to putting our children in groups consisting of children their own age, their peers basically. In reality, and in my opinion, children gain more benefit hanging around good adults. They gain more maturity that way, and learn from the adults how to be an adult, even though they might still act like children at times. I am thankful that my children desire to attend the class even when they knew it was for a whole weekend, and what is amazing is that they actually stayed in class, even though they were tired and bored and sleepy. But, in all honesty, in all fairness to them as human beings, and not just because they’re my children, I don’t think they received their due rights as students in that class, we adults probably did. Subhanallah!
My children are not geniuses and I don’t expect them (realistically) to gain more understanding that anyone else in the class, but I make dua that they did benefit from the class, inshaallah. And I pray that Zaza is not discouraged in attending another class in the future.
A take home lesson for me: I will make sure I am more merciful to my children and all children in general and not treat them as if they’re invisible. May Allah help me. Ameen.



