The quiet corruption of comfort (part III)

By Yusuf Bulafu

Assalam alaykum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh

Cont’d ….

Palaces Didn’t Touch Their Souls

Power has a scent. Those who have been deprived of it can smell it even before it arrives, and once they taste it, it intoxicates more than wine. For most, the higher they rise, the more distant they grow from who they once were. Their posture straightens with pride. Their language becomes detached. Their homes become bigger, but their hearts shrink. Yet the companions of the Prophet ﷺ may Allah be pleased with them all were not like most. They stood before palaces that once housed tyrants and emperors, but their knees still bent in humility before Allah. They didn’t change.

When the Muslim armies entered Madā’in, the capital of the mighty Persian Empire, they beheld with their own eyes what they had only heard of in fables. Gold-stitched carpets, perfumed halls, a crown so heavy with gems that it had to be suspended from the ceiling to avoid crushing the emperor’s head. Rooms filled with ivory, musk, rare silks, and utensils fashioned from precious metals. But these things did not awe them. Not because they were incapable of wonder, but because their hearts were already full with remembrance. The world was finally within reach, but their eyes had long since turned to another world.

When the treasures of Kisra were brought to Madinah in caravans, they passed through the hands of men who had once eaten leaves to survive. But these hands did not tremble in greed. They weighed and distributed with justice. The Prophet’s example had trained them to see beyond appearances. Their poverty had taught them that survival is not about possession, and their faith had taught them that true honor is in restraint, not accumulation.

The leader of believers, Umar ibn al-Khattab (may Allah be pleased with him), now the most powerful man on earth, still walked the streets in patched garments. Twelve stitches covered the holes of his outer robe. His lower garment bore four more. When he was hungry, he ate bread, oil, and salt. When people brought him luxuries, his stomach would groan, and he would scold it: “You will not taste this until every Muslim can.”

And when dignitaries came to visit the famed leader of the Muslims, they found no palace, no guards, no parade. They found Umar asleep in the mosque, on the ground, under the open sky. They looked upon him in awe because of the tranquility that radiated from a man who had nothing but ruled everything. “You ruled, and you were just, So you became safe, and thus you slept.”

What we see in these companions is not just the simplicity of their lifestyle, but the depth of their unshakable identity. Wealth did not increase their sense of self-worth. Titles did not polish their souls. The world offered itself to them, but they had already been claimed by God.

Their dignity came from knowing that whatever passed through their hands did not define their hearts. That is why even with immense access, they kept their distance from the dunya. They feared that loving it would unravel everything the Prophet ﷺ had instilled in them. For them, entering a palace was like walking into a test. And every time they passed, not because they were untouched by beauty or immune to temptation, but because their loyalty to the akhirah was greater than any fascination with this world.

To be continued