Lessons from al-Hussayn
Image source: IHSNews
My master Al-Husayn, peace be upon him, taught me that Gaza is the Karbala of our time. That every martyr who ascends in Gaza is another Husayn. And that the crime is not confined to the killers alone, but includes all who aid them: the one who gives the order, the one who executes it, and the one who praises it.
Today, I reflect on our daily slaughter in light of the anniversary of the martyrdom of Al-Husayn. Just as the killer of Husayn was not only Shimar ibn Dhi al-Jawshan, our killers today are not only the Zionists.
He taught me that words are a covenant and a bond—only a person with true nobility honors them. As for those who have betray their bonds, a word to them is akin to mucky, stagnant water, trampled by passersby and cattle alike.
He taught me that whatever is built on falsehood is false. Every rule established through blood and betrayal is doomed. How similar is the rule of Yazid ibn Mu‘awiyah to that of the Zionists. With every martyr, I know with certainty: the Zionist entity is destined to fall.
He taught me that history does not forgive. No one in the world—no matter how cunning—can wash blood from the hands of a tyrant. So how can one hope to cleanse the blood from the sword that killed the grandson of the Messenger of God ﷺ? And how can one wash the blood off a regime that has slaughtered over 60,000 martyrs in this genocide?
He taught me that the only ones more despicable than the killer, are those who defend him.
He taught me that if you are not with the oppressed, then without a doubt, you are with the oppressor.
He taught me that nothing lasts forever. Let no one rejoice in the temporary triumph of falsehood, for the victory of falsehood is only a prelude to its annihilation.
He taught me that falsehood only rises so that God may strike it down. Imagine one man falling from the first floor, and another falling from the tenth. Whose fall is harsher? Undoubtedly, the one from the tenth. Such is the strike of God. He only allows the oppressor to rise and spread his tyranny—so that his fall will be more crushing.
He taught me that speaking the truth does not require might, weapons, or great numbers—it requires a sincere heart devoted to God and His Messenger, our master Muhammad ﷺ. A heart that sees this world as a passage, not a dwelling. That what is with God is better and more lasting.
He taught me not to trust those who call on you for help and wait for you—they may only be laying a trap to betray you.
He taught me that betrayal is a bitter thing. And the bitterest of all comes from those you once believed were worthy of your trust.
He taught me that a heart seized by the world betrays easily—even if the one betrayed is the very grandson of the Messenger of God ﷺ. So how do you think such people see us, the people of Gaza?
He taught me to fear for the state of a Muslim in whose heart the love of the Master of All Creation, Muhammad ﷺ, has not taken root—for he is the wellspring of mercy. And if the love of the Prophet ﷺ does not melt into the heart, that heart becomes a cold, frightening stone.
He taught me that nothing happens by chance. That God Almighty was surely capable of causing the earth to swallow the army that besieged and killed our master Al-Husayn, but He wanted to teach us that there are exalted ranks that can only be reached through trial. Since Al-Husayn is the master of the youth of Paradise, this is one of the greatest stations after that of the Prophet ﷺ.
He taught me that God always sees things differently than we do. When one witnesses the martyrdom of Husayn and his family, it natural to be filled with anguish and pain. Yet the degree of this worldly pain mirrors the magnitude of the reward in the Hereafter. And on another level, we ask: how could the killers conspire to murder the fragrant blossom of the Messenger of God ﷺ? It may be that, written in the Preserved Tablet, a certain soul has a rank in the lowest pit of Hell—and so he must act in accordance with that station. Even killers have degrees in punishment. The killer of Prophet Yahya (John, peace be upon him), for instance, is not in the same place in Hell as the killer of an ordinary man. I shudder to imagine the stations of torment prepared for the murderers of Al-Husayn—may God curse them.
He taught me that whoever does not grieve for the martyrdom of our master Al-Husayn, Abu ‘Abd Allah, and seventy members of the Prophet’s family ﷺ—there is nothing in this world that will ever move his heart to sorrow.
I know of selflessness (ithar), but through Al-Husayn, I witnessed it on another level when Abu al-Fadl al-‘Abbas ibn ‘Ali reached the Euphrates River, parched with thirst, yet refused to drink a drop while Husayn remained thirsty after three days of siege. He was martyred before he could bring the water back. In him were gathered all the signs of a beautiful ending: a martyred soul, betrayed, thirsty, choosing others over himself.
If you have happen to have a brother or a companion like Abu al-Fadl al-‘Abbas ibn ‘Ali—may God be pleased with him—then the world becomes easy to let go of, even if you must die of thirst in it.
Lastly and most importantly, he taught me that we must not let the unjust rule over the noble. Yazid ibn Mu‘awiyah may have held power, but Al-Husayn ibn ‘Ali (peace be upon him) held honor.
That is why death was a glory for Husayn, while rule was a curse and disgrace upon Yazid.
And may God’s peace and blessings be upon our master Muhammad, his family, and his companions.
This post was originally published in Arabic on July 6th, 2025 on the day of Ashura on sotour.net
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