The quiet corruption of comfort (part IV)

By Yusuf Bulafu

Assalam alaykum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh

Cont’d ….

Gratitude without attachment

Gratitude is not simply the act of saying “Alhamdulillah” when you receive. True gratitude is measured by what you do with what you’ve been given and by how lightly you continue to hold it. The companions of the Prophet mastered this balance. They received without clinging and they thanked without hoarding. And when the time came, they gave easily, silently, and often without even remembering to keep something for themselves.

Theirs was not the gratitude of lips alone. It was a gratitude that lived in their choices. It expressed itself through generosity, restraint, humility, and a refusal to become intoxicated by what they had once desperately prayed for. That is the heart of their greatness: they knew how to possess without being possessed.

Take the example of Abdul Rahman ibn Awf (may Allah be pleased with him). He began as a poor immigrant in Madinah, arriving with nothing but his honour and his faith. Years later, he became one of the wealthiest Muslims. But when his table was spread with food one day while he was fasting, he paused. He stared at the food in grief. He remembered Mus‘ab ibn Umair, the aristocratic companion who had once worn silks in Makkah but died in poverty as a martyr, with nothing sufficient to shroud his body. “He was better than me,” Abdul Rahman whispered, and then he pushed the food away. He did not eat that day.

And then there was Aisha (may Allah be pleased with her), the Mother of the Believers, who once lived in such austerity that months would pass without a fire being lit in her home. One day, she received a gift of 100,000 silver coins; a fortune in any time. She gave away every single coin before nightfall. Her servant, noticing that she had kept nothing for herself despite fasting that day, gently asked, “Couldn’t you have saved something for your iftar?” Aisha replied, “Had you reminded me, I would have.”

In her world, gratitude did not demand preservation but rather, it demanded release. She didn’t see her fasting as more important than others’ hunger. She had been poor once. She had fasted with nothing before. And if her gratitude meant anything, it was in the reflex of giving, not the luxury of comfort. These companions did not treat gratitude as an emotion to feel. They treated it as a responsibility to act. Their homes were often simple, but their hearts were vast. They didn’t fear poverty, nor were they afraid of wealth. What they feared was forgetting. They feared that if their hands became too full, they would forget what it meant to be empty and, in that forgetfulness, lose their place before Allah. This is the gratitude we are rarely taught.

We live in a time where gratitude is often confused with self-celebration. “I worked hard, and Allah rewarded me,” we say. “I deserve this ease.” But the companions never spoke that way. To them, ease was not a sign of favor unless it led to more giving.

Wealth was not proof of divine love unless it softened the soul. They feared being among those whom Allah gives in the dunya only to leave empty-handed in the Hereafter. Because real gratitude is not proven by how much you receive, but by how little you need to hold on to. And how much you are willing to part with, silently, for the sake of the One who gave it to you.

To be continued …