A strategy built on shock, decapitation and regime collapse may already be unraveling.

Ramadan is the month of the Qur’an, and we should all strive to enrich our relationship with the Book of Allah . With two weeks already behind us, we may be reassessing our Qur’anic goals. Are we behind? If yes, by how many pages? We may readjust these figures accordingly and move on with the new plan. But is that all? 

Sheikh Abdul Razzaq al-Badr حفظه ٱللَّٰهُ once said that our concern while reading the Qur’an should be, ‘When will I be guided by it? When will I benefit from it? When will I be among the people of the Qur’an?’ To allow these concerns to guide us, we need to understand what Allah is telling us to do. In Surah Sad, Allah encourages us to do ‘tadabbur’ on His verses, i.e., to contemplate on them.
“˹This is˺ a blessed Book which We have revealed to you ˹O Prophet˺ so that they may contemplate its verses, and people of reason may be mindful.” [Surah Sad: 38;29]

And, in the pursuit of contemplation, we hope to extract a profound reflection or unlock a subtle new meaning in the verses we are reading. Yet, have we not found ourselves every now and then forcing a reflection out of it? Sometimes it proves to be a success. Sometimes, it leaves little impact on our hearts. If we fall short in extracting Qur’anic “gems”, are we doing something wrong?

These doubts were addressed in a virtual class conducted by Ustadha Abeer Sadary حفظها ٱللَّٰهُ before Ramadan. Titled ‘The Art of Tadabbur’, the class helped us understand how best to reflect upon the Qur’an, the mistakes we often make, and what steps we can take when interacting with His Book. The following are my personal notes from this class.

What is Tadabbur?

Tadabbur means to reflect and contemplate on the Qur’an. It should be the focus of every believer.

As in the verse from Surah Sad, “˹This is˺ a blessed Book which you have revealed to you ˹O Prophet˺ so that they may contemplate its verses, and people of reason may be mindful.” 

Tadabbur isn’t technical; there aren’t strict rules that encompass it, and it is accessible to the layperson. It is different from tafsir because tafsir is a science to extract meaning and is limited to scholars. On the other hand, tadabbur is to think about those meanings. In other words, if the goal of tafsir is to learn the meaning, then the goal of tadabbur is to get guidance from the meaning. 

For example, in Surah Baqarah [2:195], Allah says, “إِنَّ ٱللَّهَ يُحِبُّ ٱلْمُحْسِنِينَ” (“Indeed, Allah loves the doers of good.”) To do tadabbur on this verse would be to think, “If I do acts of righteousness, I may earn the love of Allah . So what can I do today that’ll attain that love?”

Misconceptions Of Tadabbur

With everything in life, we want to make sure you do things right the first time. We don’t want to spend a lifetime working on something only to later discover that there’s a better way to do it. It is the same with tadabbur. There are a few misconceptions around the topic. But if you understand what it is and what it isn’t, then you can get it right the first time around.

 – Misconception #1: To assume that tadabbur is an outcome instead of a process

When reflecting on a verse, you don’t have to have tears or a long reflective post about it. Tadabbur is a process, and thinking does not necessitate a conclusion. It can even be a question or an incomplete thought. Linguistically, tadabbur comes from the wordدﺑر (da-ba-ra), which means the outcome or end result. Ibn Qayyim رحمه الله says that to reflect is to examine the beginning and the end, and then look at it again and again. It is interesting to note that tadabbur is a verbal noun. In Arabic, a noun means something permanent, and a verb means something that happens over and over again. A verbal noun, therefore, is a bit of both. And this is what Ibn Qayyim meant by looking at it again and again.

Our idea of tadabbur is shaped by a lot of what we see on social media: the journals, the coloured pens, the tea, etc. But this isn’t what tadabbur is. The reason why the Qur’an is so effective during Ramadan is because we remove distractions like food and water, and the emptiness is filled with the Qur’an.

Then imagine coloured pens and stickers. This is a hobby: this isn’t what Allah wants. If you do this with your five-year-old daughter, then that’s excellent. But, as an adult who wants goodness and rectification, you cannot take that approach for yourself. It might become a tool of distraction. Anything, even if on the surface is positive, can become a distraction. The Salaf used to complain about people’s excessive focus on good recitation, so much so that they would neglect the action, admonition, and rulings in it. The Prophet said: “There will emerge from the East some people who will recite the Qur’an, but it will not exceed their throats…”

 – Misconception #2: To assume only scholars can do tadabbur

Tadabbur does not have to be an “all or nothing” approach. Some people worry that if they can’t reflect on every single verse, they should not try it at all. No, that should not be the case. Instead, you should remember to focus on quality, even if it’s one verse. At least in the beginning. The Prophet would sometimes recite one verse the whole night.

 – Misconception #3: To assume you have to be free with our time or you have to be sinless

To successfully escape the clutches of shaytaan, you need to know how he works. One of his tricks is convincing you that you’re too sinful to reflect on the Qur’an. He can drive you away from engaging in tadabbur because he knows that guidance lies within the reflection of the Qur’an.

Another trick is convincing you to stipulate conditions before you even get close to the Qur’an. For example: you tell yourself that you have to cook the food and keep the kids busy before getting to the Qur’an. But this is life. You’ll always be busy, and this is what life will be till the end. What you have to do is do it now with the circumstances you’re in.

 – Misconception #4: To assume you can only recite the Qur’an if it’s accompanied with tadabbur

This is wrong as it’s an absolutist mentality. The salaf had a multi-dimensional relationship with the Qur’an: they used to recite for shifa, they used to recite in excess, recite to receive answers to questions, etc.

With enough practice, you should be able to recite and reflect simultaneously. It shouldn’t be one at the expense of another. For Ramadan, pick a surah and study it beforehand. Understand what it means, so much so that you don’t rely on your notes and can briefly describe what it means.

Requisites Of The Qur’an

Tadabbur has certain requisites that will help you enhance your relationship with the Qur’an. One of them is to acknowledge the Qur’an’s greatness.

“Indeed, We will cast upon you a heavy word.” [Surah Al-Muzzammil: 73;5]

Allah calls the Qur’an a “heavy word”. The Qur’an physically weighed the Prophet down. There are many incidents that indicate this, one of which was when the Prophet was atop a camel. When wahy (revelation) came to him, it is narrated that the camel buckled under him. On another occasion, the companion Zaid bin Thabit was sitting next to the Prophet with his thigh under that of the Prophet’s . When wahy came down, it was so heavy on the Prophet that the companion felt like his leg would break. It is also reported that the Prophet would sweat profusely when he received wahy, even when it was freezing cold.

All these examples help us understand how tremendous this Book is. If people approach it like a reading or journaling club pick, their connection to it will be limited. If they approach it with coldness like they would a newspaper, their hearts won’t be filled with joy, and their reflections will be deficient.

Another requisite is to have an aim with the Qur’an. You need to have a desperation for it, a desperation for its guidance. If a person walks without a destination in mind, he or she won’t reach anywhere specific. It’s the same with the Qur’an: if you open it without an objective, you won’t get to your destination. But if you approach it with iman and seeking iman, you’ll ultimately get iman. The one who seeks a cure will find a cure, the one who seeks rectification will find rectification, the one who seeks guidance will find guidance. And the ones whose aim with the Qur’an is to increase in knowledge, they will attain it. Come as a blank slate and let the Qur’an shape your perceptions and beliefs.

Practical Tips for Tadabbur

What are some practical tips to do tadabbur? 

• A non-negotiable tip is to have knowledge of tafsir. It needn’t be an in-depth, scholarly level sort of knowledge. 
• Start with a surah you’ve memorised, or you’re familiar with, if the whole Qur’an seems daunting. It’s a slow process, but it’s possible if you’re diligent and you build enough stamina. The companionship you build with the Qur’an is like any other relationship in general: it isn’t built in a day but in years of investing and hours of time spent on it.
• You must come with a focused mind. A scholar once said that if you wish to benefit from the Qur’an, then you must gather your heart when listening and reciting from it. Imam an-Nawawi quotes Hasan al-Basri رحمهم الله when he said that the people before them (i.e., the sahabas) saw the Qur’an as letters and forms of communication from their Rabb. They’d reflect on them at night and strive to act upon them during the day. This is how love is. 
• Sheikh Abdur Rahman As-Sa’di رحمه الله was once asked about how one can reflect on the Qur’an. He said, “You continue to read and read and read until Allah opens your heart.”

May Allah allow us to enhance our relationship with the Quran with every passing day – starting this Ramadan inshaAllah.

 

[Ustadha Abeer Sadary حفظها ٱللَّٰهُ conducts both onsite and online classes on various Islamic sciences, including tafsir, hadith, tazkiyah, and tawhid, exclusively for women. Her website can be found here.]

Related:

Cast Aside Evil Thoughts In This ‘Month Of The Quran’

The Albatross and the Quran: A Short Story

The post The Art of Tadabbur: Enriching Our Relationship With The Quran appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

This series is a collaboration between Dr. Ali and MuslimMatters, bringing Quranic wisdom to the questions Muslim families are navigating.

When Your Teen Experiences Loss

There is a specific kind of silence that falls over Muslim families after a catastrophic loss.

The body is barely in the ground. The relatives are reciting Quran in the corner. And somewhere in that house is a teenager who is not crying, not praying, not participating in the rituals of grief.

They are alone with something they don’t know what to do with.

Not necessarily rejecting Allah. Not necessarily losing their faith. Just — overwhelmed by pain so large it has no container. And no one has told them where to take it.

This piece is for the parent who wants to give their teenager that direction.

First: Understand what your teen is actually experiencing

Grief in adolescence is neurologically and developmentally different from grief in adults.

The adolescent brain — specifically the prefrontal cortex, responsible for emotional regulation and long-term perspective — is still developing. This means that when a teenager experiences catastrophic loss, the emotional intensity is higher, the capacity to self-regulate is lower, and the ability to hold contradictory truths simultaneously is genuinely harder than it will be in adulthood.

This is not weakness. It is neurodevelopment.

Additionally, adolescence is already the period in which young people are constructing their own framework for understanding the world. A major loss during this period doesn’t just cause grief — it can disrupt the entire framework a teenager has been building. When a teen says “I don’t understand how Allah could let this happen,” they are often not making a theological argument. They are expressing that the world no longer makes sense. They need help finding a direction — toward Allah, not away from Him — and to be walked in that direction.

What the Quran actually shows us about grief

The story of Prophet Yaqub ﷺ is the Quran’s most extended, most humanly raw portrait of grief. And it corrects several common misunderstandings about what Islamic grief is supposed to look like.

Yaqub lost his beloved son Yusuf — or believed he had. And then years later his second son, Binyamin, was also taken. The Quran records that his eyes turned white from weeping. That he wept until he lost his sight. That his sons told him he was going to destroy himself with grief.

And Yaqub said:

“I only pour out my suffering and my grief to Allah, and I know from Allah what you do not know.” [Yusuf 12:86]

The classical scholars — Ibn Kathir, al-Tabari, al-Qurtubi — are unanimous in their understanding of this statement. Yaqub is not expressing anger at Allah or at His decree. He is directing his grief to Allah, in the manner of a servant who seeks relief and mercy from the Lord he trusts completely. He didn’t go to anyone else with that pain. He brought it before Allah alone.

And alongside his grief he held something deeper: I know from Allah what you do not know. Not certainty about the outcome. Just trust — rooted in his knowledge of who Allah is, and anchored by the hope of Yusuf’s dream — that everything happening had a purpose enveloped in mercy, even what he could not yet see.

Two things in Yaqub’s response deserve careful attention for parents:

First — he did not suppress his grief or perform acceptance he did not feel. He acknowledged the pain fully. He named it. He brought it to Allah raw and unfiltered.

Second — he did not take that pain anywhere else. Illa Allah — to Allah, alone. Not to bitterness. Not to resentment. Not away from the One who could actually carry it.

This is the model you want to give your teenager. Not: pretend it doesn’t hurt. But: bring everything you’re carrying — honestly, fully — to Allah.

Why bad things happen: the answer that actually satisfies

Abstract theological explanations of suffering rarely land with grieving teenagers. But narrative does. And the Quran gives us one of the most powerful narratives ever told about divine wisdom — one that Muslims encounter every Friday in Surat al-Kahf.

The story of Musa and Khidr.

Musa ﷺ — one of the mightiest messengers of Allah, armed with complete knowledge of divine law and justice — traveled with Khidr ﷺ, a prophet acting on direct divine instruction. And he witnessed three things he could not remain silent about:

A poor family’s boat — their livelihood — was deliberately damaged. Khidr ﷺ put a hole in it just as they reached the other shore.

A child was killed. Playing innocently. Without apparent reason.

A wall in a town that had refused them hospitality was rebuilt for free.

Musa’s objections were entirely reasonable from where he stood. Two apparent wrongs and one senseless act of generosity toward people who deserved only condemnation. He applied his full knowledge of right and wrong — yet, he was wrong.

Then Khidr explained what Musa could not see:

The damaged boat protected it from a king who was seizing every seaworthy vessel by force. That poor family lost a few days of work — but kept their livelihood. Some reports even say Khidr overpaid the rent to help cover the repairs.

The child who died was headed toward a life of oppression toward his own parents and to society at large. He was taken in mercy — for them and for him. His parents were given another child. And that boy, now with Ibrahim ﷺ in Jannah, plays with other children, waiting until the Day of Judgment where he will be allowed to intercede for his parents, so that all of them enter together.

The wall protected the inheritance of two orphaned boys whose righteous father had hidden his life savings beneath it. Had it collapsed, their inheritance would have been taken illegitimately. It stood long enough for those boys to grow up and claim what was theirs.

Three apparent wrongs. Three profound mercies — invisible from inside the story, fully visible only from where Allah stands.

This is the answer to “why do bad things happen to good people” that satisfies — not because it removes the pain, but because it gives the pain a context. We are Musa, inside the story, seeing only what we can see. Allah sees the whole picture.

Allah says in Surat al-A’raf:

“My mercy encompasses everything.” [7:156]

And the Prophet ﷺ taught us to say: “All good is in Your Hands, and evil is never attributed to You.”

Evil in Islam is like darkness — the absence of light. All that flows from Allah is good, even when we cannot see the goodness from inside our pain. Yusuf was removed from a life of bullying and poverty into a grand purpose: the salvation of a civilization, the repentance of his brothers, and the reunion that restored his father’s sight. Yaqub could not see any of that from inside his grief. But it was already in motion.

Your teenager cannot see the end of their story from inside their pain. But Allah can. That is what I know from Allah what you do not know means — not special information, but trust in a mercy that encompasses everything.

When you share the Musa and Khidr story with your grieving teenager, you are giving them a Quranic framework for understanding why their limited vantage point is not the whole picture. Read Surat al-Kahf together. Let the words of Allah do the work.

The most important question: where does the pain go?

When a teenager is in the grip of grief, the pain has to go somewhere. The question is where.

It can go toward Allah — in du’a, in tears poured out in salah, in honest supplication, in the act of returning to Him even when returning is hard. This is the direction of Yaqub. This is what protects and eventually heals the heart.

Or it can go away from Allah — into numbness, into withdrawal from prayer and community, into bitterness that gradually hardens the heart and creates distance from the only real source of relief.

The issue is never the existence of pain. Allah created human emotions and knows what is in the heart. The issue is direction.

Your role as a parent is not to rush your teenager to acceptance or to deliver a theology lecture in the middle of their grief. It is to help them find the direction — toward Allah, not away — and to walk with them in that direction. To say, with your presence and your words: bring it to Him. All of it. He can hold it.

What sabr actually means

There is a misunderstanding of sabr that causes real harm when applied to grieving teenagers.

Sabr is not the performance of calm. It is not emotional suppression. The Prophet ﷺ said: “Patience is at the first strike of calamity.” (Bukhari) The scholars explain carefully: what is being praised is the response at the moment of loss — turning toward Allah rather than away, not saying what displeases Allah. It does not mean to feel nothing.

The Prophet ﷺ himself wept at the death of his son Ibrahim. He said: “The eye weeps and the heart grieves, and we say only what pleases our Lord.” (Bukhari) Tears are not failure. Grief is not un-Islamic.

Yaqub wept for years. The Quran records it without criticism and calls him patient and righteous in the same story.

When you communicate to your teenager that their tears or their questions are un-Islamic, you are not teaching them sabr. You are teaching them that their real internal state is shameful and must be hidden — from you, and from Allah. That is the opposite of Yaqub’s model.

Real sabr guards the tongue and the heart’s orientation. It has room for tears. It looks like a father weeping until he loses his sight, still saying — I know from Allah what you do not know.

Warning signs that grief requires professional support

Normal grief — even prolonged, intense grief — does not require clinical intervention. But the following indicate that professional support is needed:

• Any expression of suicidal ideation — direct or indirect. Take this seriously without exception and without delay.
• Prolonged functional impairment — inability to attend school, eat, sleep, or maintain basic self-care for more than a few weeks.
• Complete social withdrawal — isolation from all friends and family simultaneously.
• Self-harm of any kind.
• Substance use to manage the pain.

If several of these are present, seek professional support — ideally from a Muslim mental health provider who understands both clinical practice and Islamic framework. Khalil Center (khalilcenter.com) is a strong starting point. If your teen is in crisis, call or text 988.

What to say — and what not to say

Don’t say:

• “Stop crying — this is Allah’s will.” This conflates acceptance of qadar with suppression of grief. They are not the same.
• “You need to be strong for the family.” This instructs them to perform for others rather than grieve honestly before Allah.
• “Everything happens for a reason.” True in Islamic understanding, but experienced as dismissive in acute grief.
• “They’re in a better place.” Insha Allah, true — but not what a teenager in fresh grief needs in the first moments.
• “You shouldn’t question Allah.” Honest confusion brought to Allah is not the problem. Help them bring the questions to Him — don’t shut them down.

Do say:

• “This is devastating. I’m so sorry.”
• “You don’t have to have it figured out right now.”
• “It’s okay to cry. The Prophet ﷺ cried too.”
• “Yaqub ﷺ wept until he lost his sight. Allah still called him patient and righteous.”
• “Bring it to Allah — all of it. You don’t have to clean it up first.”
• “No one else can carry this with you the way He can. Bring it to Him.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Take whatever time you need.”

Discussion questions for families

For teens:

1. When something painful happens, where does the feeling go? What is your instinct?
2. What does the Musa and Khidr story teach you about what you can and cannot see from inside your own situation?
3. Is there something you’re carrying right now that you haven’t brought to Allah yet?

For parents:

1. How did your family handle grief when you were growing up? What did that teach you about expressing pain?
2. Have you ever suppressed your own grief to appear strong? What did that cost you?
3. How can you make your home a place where your teenager can grieve honestly — and be directed toward Allah in that grief?

For discussion together:

1. What does ashku bathhi wa huzni ila Allah — I pour out my suffering and my grief to Allah — mean to you personally?
2. Read the Musa and Khidr story together from Surat al-Kahf. Which of the three examples speaks most to you, and why?
3. Is there a loss our family has experienced that we haven’t fully brought to Allah together?

The bottom line

Your teenager’s grief is not a threat to their faith. It is an opportunity — perhaps the most significant one they will have in their young life — to discover that Allah is large enough to hold everything they are carrying.

Your job is not to rush them to acceptance or to correct their theology in the middle of their pain. Your job is to point them in the right direction — toward Allah, not away from Him. To say, with your words and your presence: bring it to Him. All of it. He can hold it.

Yaqub couldn’t see what Allah could see. He poured out his grief before Allah in the darkness. And then Yusuf walked through the door.

Help your teenager find their way to that same door.

Continue the Journey

This is Night 18 of Dr. Ali’s 30-part Ramadan series, “30 Nights with the Quran: Stories for the Seeking Soul.”

Tomorrow, insha Allah: Night 19 — When Islam Feels Like a Burden: Why does it feel like everything cool is haram?

For daily extended reflections with journaling prompts, personal stories, and deeper resources, join Dr. Ali’s email community: https://30nightswithquran.beehiiv.com/

Related:

Is Depression a Lack of Faith? A Guide for Muslim Parents | Night 17 with the Qur’an

30 Nights with the Qur’an: A Ramadan Series for Muslim Teens

The post Why Do Bad Things Happen to Good People? | Night 18 with the Qur’an appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

President abandons anti-war pledge.

Ban lacked evidence that journalist’s speech violated the law or that he posed any threat to Switzerland.

Two Palestinian men shot and killed by rampaging settlers in occupied West Bank.

The assassination of Iran’s long-ruling leader, Ali Khamenei, at the outset of another treacherous Israeli-incited American attack at the end of winter 2026 casts a long shadow. Not only are prospects of resolution incalculably damaged, but Khamenei’s killing marked the end of one of the most paradoxical and polarizing figures in contemporary history, one who had overseen a paradoxical hybrid parliamentary regime in Iran that yet entrenched a clerical-military nexus at whose apex he stood for nearly fifty years.

A Revolutionary Background

Vilified by Iran’s many enemies, certainly his killers, as a “fanatic” or “tyrant”, Khamenei was also seen by large swathes of the world, including but not exclusively Shias, as a “martyr”, not least for the circumstances in which he was treacherously cut down. Still lucid in his eighties, he defied easy categorization: a vastly read intellectual and a youth activist, he was nonetheless quick to resort to bloody repression at the helm of what was essentially a religious-cum-military clique in power; a proponent of internationalist solidarity, he was nonetheless comfortable with adopting narrow Iranian statism when it suited him; a repeated claimant of cross-sectarian solidarity among Muslims, he oversaw policies that repeatedly pushed other Muslims under the bus; a sharp critic of Western imperialism and advocate of Muslim independence, he proved nonetheless willing to join in imperial misadventures even if at arms’ length, yet was cut down by the same misadventures. What is certain is that Khamenei’s killers, the genocidal Israeli ethnostate and its enablers, and the circumstances in which he was slain were worse than the man.

“In the late 1970s, Rouhollah Khomeini was the spearhead of a mass revolt that forced out the monarchy into exile.”

More than anything, Khamenei epitomized the limitations of the revolutionary intellectual as ruler; he was without question a widespread multilingual reader, and engaged over the years with works as varied as those of Malcolm “X” Shabazz, Muhammad Iqbal, Sayed Qutub, Victor Hugo, Jawaharlal Nehru, and Leo Tolstoy. What most of these writers had in common was criticism of the status quo, something that no doubt appealed to a man who had grown up in an Azeri family under a tightly repressive monarchy led by the Pahlavi family. One of Khamenei’s influences was Navab Safavi, an Islamist ideologue who had assassinated the pro-British military prime minister Ali Razmara in 1951. Another prime minister, Hassan Mansour, fell prey to a similarly motivated assassination in 1965. In between, when Khamenei was just a teenager in 1953, the United States and Britain helped the monarchy oust an elected government for blatantly material interests related to Iranian oil.

The Pahlavi regime that lasted until 1979 was not only a monarchy, nor just a Western vassal, nor simply an elitist regime with open and often unconcealed racial disdain for outsiders, but one of the most brutal police states of the day, whose repression comfortably dwarfed that of the regime Khamenei himself would lead. He was repeatedly jailed in his prime years, a period when monarchic repression duelled with underground resistance of various types – Muslim, leftist, liberal, ethnic,  and other. The most recognizable opposition leader was Rouhollah Khomeini, a firebrand preacher under whom Khamenei had studied. In the late 1970s, Khomeini was the spearhead of a mass revolt that forced out the monarchy into exile, where its loyalists have since constituted a nostalgic, myopic, and obnoxious segment of the Iranian diaspora.

Revolution, War, and Consolidation

At home, however, the revolution narrowed to a smaller circle. At first expected to be more of a symbolic ruler alongside a prime ministry and presidency, Khomeini became the increasingly powerful leader of a circle increasingly comprising men of his background: clerics, almost invariably Shia clerics, in what was called Vilayet-e-Faqih, or the State of the Jurists. This was Khomeini’s preferred innovation and underpinned the hybrid nature of the regime: while it held regular elections for the presidency and elected officials wielded significant local control, their decisions were subject to largely clerical review while executive power rested with a clerical “supreme leader”.

Around Khomeini were gathered fellow clerics as well as revolutionary activists and military officers: either officers who had been dissidents under the monarchy or revolutionaries-turned-generals during the 1980s Gulf war with Iraq. Indeed, Khamenei’s principal interest in the revolution’s immediate aftermath seems to have been in forming a military and security network: over the war’s years, this would expand into a vast praetorian corps called Pasdaran, or Islamic Revolutionary Guards. He often visited the battlefield and worked closely with rising military stars such as Mohsen Rezai, Bagher Ghalibaf, and – perhaps best-known outside Iran – Ghassem Soleimani.

Their power increased amid crackdowns on rival revolutionaries as well as American-backed monarchists. Similarly, they were strengthened by the 1980s Gulf War. The fact that Iraq, whose dictator Saddam Hussein had formally taken over just after the Iranian revolution, invaded meant that, like its monarchic predecessor, Khomeini’s regime could rally on nationalist sentiment, if with a more religious tenor than before. Iran largely relied on mass attacks – where thousands of fighters might be slain at a time – to offset the Iraqi technological advantage, and this required motivation of the type that clerical warriors like Khamenei could give. Although Tehran formally disavowed sectarianism – cultivating certain Sunni allies abroad and formally reining in some sectarian rhetoric at home – the narrative could also take on sectarian tones, especially with regard to the Gulf, whose rulers were pro-West as a rule and had largely backed Iraq through well-grounded fears of Iranian subversion.

Paroxysms and Promotions

Even as the war raged, in summer 1981, a series of paroxysms struck Iranian politics. These were largely related to the Mojahedin-e Khalgh, a network led by the Rajavi spouses Massoud and Maryam that competed with Khomeini. Though they had played a major role in the 1979 revolution with a mixture of Muslim and Marxist rhetoric, the Rajavis had been frozen out since, and joined Iraq’s side; the rather cultish and freely murderous nature of their organization made them an easy target against which the regime could rally.

Khamenei himself was badly injured and lost the use of an arm when a Khalgh assassin tried to kill him. Only days earlier, the parliament, led by a frequent ally of Khamenei, Akbar Hashmi-Rafsanjani, had impeached the increasingly weak incumbent of the presidency, Abolhassan Banisadr, who was accused of being soft on Khalgh and fled abroad. After a snap election, Banisadr’s prime minister, Mohammad Rajai, replaced him, only to be assassinated along with his own prime minister, Javad Bahonar, by Khalgh before the summer was out. In these circumstances, Khamenei, still only recently recovered from injury, won the election of autumn 1981 to take over the presidency, with Mir-Hossein Mousavi as prime minister. In contrast to Banisadr, Khamenei was fiercely loyal to Khomeini’s policy, and this was a major step in the entrenchment of their clique.

Ali Khamenei served as Iran’s president from 1981 until 1989 [PC: Getty Images]

Foreign observers of Iranian politics often divide camps into “moderates” and “hardliners”, but this is a major oversimplification that overlooks how political camps actually functioned. Khamenei would adopt conciliatory policies at some junctures and uncompromising ones at others: what he prized was the maintenance of an order that he deemed necessary for the “revolutionary” regime’s survival.

One example came when, in 1982, the Iranians spectacularly expelled the Iraqi army. Fearful of Iranian expansion, Saudi Arabia, which generally supported Iraq, offered reparations and conciliation. In the ensuing debate, it was the “hardliner” Khamenei who favoured taking the Saudi deal in order to focus on consolidation; by contrast, Prime Minister Mousavi and Khomeini’s deputy Hossein Montazeri, often seen as “moderates”, favoured “spreading the revolution” by attacking Iraq. Khomeini agreed; for once, Khamenei was overruled, and Iran proceeded to attack Iraq that summer; though Iranian propaganda frequently described the 1980s Gulf War as an “Imposed War” because of Iraq’s initial attack, in fact, most of the remaining six years would see Iran attacking its hitherto beaten neighbour.

Also defying easy definitions, Iran supported Syria’s regime, which brutally crushed an Islamic revolt but shared Iran’s enemy in Iraq. In the Lebanese war, Iran’s beneficiaries, which eventually became known as Hezbollah, fought against both Syrian and Israeli proxies; yet Iran and Israel also shared an enemy in Iraq, which was by the mid-1980s formally backed by the pro-American Gulf states. Even as they were fighting over Lebanon, Iran and Israel secretly cooperated against Iraq in weapons transfers in which neoconservative officials from the American government were also involved. Thus, the Americans found themselves backing both sides in the Gulf: they openly backed Iraq, and even attacked Iranian ships, but also secretly armed Iran.

The 1980s Gulf War ended with the Iraqi reconquest of the peninsula and a failed Khalgh incursion into Iran, after which the Iranian regime mounted a series of mass crackdowns and executions. This outraged deputy ruler Montazeri, who was quickly replaced with the less squeamish Khamenei just months before Khomeini (1979-89) passed away. Khamenei replaced him, and the regime was reorganized to institutionalize his power; the prime ministry, held by Mousavi, was abolished, and the Iranian “Supreme Leader” could rule for life. This position was loosely akin to that of a constitutional monarch, albeit one that had far more active engagement with its establishment than most contemporary monarchs. Hashmi-Rafsanjani, who now took the still-electable presidency, claimed that Khamenei felt suffocated by the new responsibility, but if this was so, Iran’s new ruler certainly didn’t let such feelings interrupt a decades-long rule.

Rhetoric versus Practice: Mixed Relations with the United States

In his new role as paramount leader, Khamenei adopted a position of dignified aloofness from the rough-and-tumble of day-to-day politics and party bickering, but reserved the privilege to occasionally comment if he felt things were going too far. The Iranian regime, by the 1990s, had adopted a longer-term entrenchment, though the political arena was still primarily contestable by either veterans of the early revolution or by allied clergy and technocrats. This led to something of an unofficial oligarchy, with rotating figures emerging as fixtures in the political elite; the fabulously wealthy Hashmi-Rafsanjani, by no means a bloodcurdling revolutionary, was often a favoured target of criticism.

But Khamenei was still flexible enough to work with politicians whose platforms he disapproved, perhaps in part because they shared his social background. Hassan Rouhani, like Khamenei, a cleric with close military links, chaired the security council for years despite a well-known openness to dealing with the West. In 1997, Mohammad Khatami, an openly pro-Western cleric who urged political change, won the election and, despite frequent grumbling from Khamenei and the generals, lasted two successive terms in the presidency.

The Iranian regime had long complained about “Gharbzadegi” or “Westoxification” – the inclination to be culturally awestruck by Western material advantages – but this did not extend to occasional collaboration. In fact, Khamenei and his generals, who still held the whip hand on foreign policy, were less averse to cooperation with the West than rhetoric suggested. A case in point was the 2001 American invasion of Afghanistan, which Iran enthusiastically supported to oust a Taliban regime that Khamenei had castigated as upstarts.

This was doubly the case when, in 2003, the Americans invaded Iraq. Though the neoconservative-dominated American regime had made no secret of its ambitions to soon attack Iran, the prospect of finally ousting Saddam and tapping into Iraq was one that Khamenei could not resist, especially given Iran’s years-long influence with a large number of Iraqi opposition groups, largely though not exclusively Shia exiles. When one such exile oppositionist, the commander Jamal Jafar (Abu Mahdi), objected to working with the Americans, Khamenei personally overruled him in the interest of ousting the Iraqi Baath regime. It was not until their mutual enemy was defeated and Iraq conquered that the United States and Iran resumed their rivalry, with Iran backing militants against the Americans’ British confederates. Yet even in Iraq, they often competed over the same clientele, including Iraqi Kurdish militias and also Jawad Maliki, who was at first promoted in 2006 by the United States, but backed by both Iranian and American support in consolidating his power.

Resistance and Its Limits

One frequent American accusation, first planted and endlessly rehashed by Israel, was that Iran was on the verge of obtaining nuclear weapons, supposedly to annihilate Jews. This was bloodthirsty fantasism for a number of reasons, not least that Khomeini had always opposed nuclear weapons and Khamenei repeatedly abandoned opportunities to cultivate them, for example, with a Pakistani offer of enrichment. In the period of American-Israeli aggression, this failure to adopt a deterrent looks increasingly naive.

Instead, Iran focused on cultivating a network of mostly militia allies in the region, and largely limited alliances with American rivals like Russia. These were grandly dubbed an “Axis of Resistance”, appropriating an American propaganda term that had placed Iran in an “Axis of Evil”. Like the American term, this term itself was largely misleading; in such countries as Iraq, the “Axis of Resistance” chronically cooperated with the same Americans whose empire it was meant to be resisting. It also frequently belied Iranian rhetoric; while Iran had long distanced itself from sectarianism, it frequently relied on thuggish sectarian confederates in Iraq and Syria.

Nonetheless, the United States and especially Israel remained hostile to Iran. One favourite target was Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the voluble populist who replaced Khatami in the presidency. At first, Khamenei backed Ahmadinejad, notably in a 2009 reelection over the 1980s prime minister, Mousavi. Now an opposition figure calling for reform, Mousavi was put under house arrest and the protests in his favour were crushed. However, Ahmadinejad’s populism frequently clashed with the interests and views of Khamenei’s own establishmentarian clerical and military-security networks, and the pair frequently diverged over the ensuing years.

In 2013, Ahmadinejad was replaced with a more familiar figure: unlike the populist, Rouhani was an establishment man, a soldier-cleric like Khamenei himself; also unlike Ahmadinejad, he was eager to reach an accord with the United States, based on shared interests in Syria and Iraq. In Iraq, Maliki’s regime – backed by both the United States and Iran – faced a revolt quickly dominated by the millenarian Daesh organization; in Syria, an Iran-backed regime faced both Daesh as well as a revolt backed by Turkiye. Iran invaded Syria in 2013, and the United States in 2014. In Iraq, both cooperated against Daesh. Ghassem Soleimani rallied such Iraqi lieutenants as Jamal Jafar to hold their noses and cooperate with the American military against an Iraqi rival, as they had done in 2003. This helped facilitate a short-lived deal between the United States and Iran over nuclear enrichment, over voluble Israeli protests, at Vienna in 2015. Khamenei had given Rouhani a long leash for diplomacy with the United States, but his misgivings about this approach were vindicated when, in 2017, the more aggressive American regime of Donald Trump abruptly scrapped the agreement.

With failed diplomacy toward Washington came destructive wars in Iraq and Syria. The cost of these campaigns was enormous; tens of thousands had been killed, and Iran’s particular intervention in Syria in the service of a vicious and fickle dictatorship would come to naught; the Assad family would indeed betray and abandon the “Axis of Resistance” even before their own ouster in 2024, and the fact that Israel immediately attacked their Turkish-backed foes underlined the hollowness of Iran’s claim that the Assad family would be a bulwark against Israel. As with the original support for the 2001 Afghanistan invasion and 2003 Iraq invasion, diverting so many resources for undisguisedly vicious and unprincipled regimes was a policy that Khamenei would have cause to regret.

Confrontation

“With Daesh out for the count, America and Iran again diverged, and in 2020, Trump had Ghassem Soleimani and Jamal Jafar assassinated in a standoff in Iraq.”

With Daesh out for the count, America and Iran again diverged, and in 2020, Trump had Ghassem Soleimani and Jamal Jafar assassinated in a standoff in Iraq. An outraged Khamenei’s threats were not matched by repeatedly faltering Iranian reciprocations. Similarly, there was no meaningful Iranian response when, in 2023, the Palestinian Hamas in Gaza, to which Iran was only loosely attached, broke out of a decades-long siege and seized hostages in a bloody raid before a genocidal Israeli assault over the region. Though Israel insisted on treating Hamas as an Iranian proxy, Tehran took care to avoid meaningful confrontation. This continued right until the summer of 2025, when a reinstalled Trump helped Israel attack Iran, in the process wiping out a wide swathe of leaders with whom Khamenei had worked for decades.

Nor were external attacks the only front. Over the 2020s, Iran was beset by internal protests, which contained both organic elements but also, as in the most recent case, disruptive elements clearly linked to Israel. As in the past, Iran resorted to violent repression, whose scale was instantly, shamelessly, and absurdly exaggerated by its enemies. Their most ludicrous yet frequently mulled claimant to replace the clerical regime was the posturing, utterly incompetent heir to the Pahlavi name, Reza Shah, who had grown up in an American exile, was leery of resettling in Iran, and had no credentials for the job beyond his surname and a particularly shameless courtship with Israel.

Given these multivariable threats and a clear track record of the United States and Israel breaking their agreements, it seems incredible that Iran once more resorted to the negotiating table. Clearly, Khamenei’s long-articulated suspicions of the American-Israeli axis had no veto on the matter. It came as no surprise when, at the end of February 2026, with negotiations still underway, another American-Israeli barrage hurtled into Iran. On their occasion, they got Khamenei; perhaps resigned to a revolutionary end, the elderly Iranian leader was reportedly sitting with an infant granddaughter when both were killed.

Khamenei is the latest, but most powerful, of a line of leaders to have been assassinated by the United States and Israel – among others, Yemeni, Palestinian, and Lebanese leaders. But owing in part to his longevity at the helm of an at least independent, if not always, anti-imperial regime; in part to his position as the seniormost Shia politician in the world; and in part to the dishonourable methods of the genocidal enemy that had killed him, Khamenei’s death has already provoked more international outcry than most. The tragedy is not, as his killers’ propaganda has it, that he ran a supposedly millennarian regime bent on regional conquest. The tragedy is that his revolutionary-philosophical background, decades in near-unchallenged power, and proven ability to retain his position, did not equip him to adequately confront his country’s open enemies. He recognized them far better than many other rulers in the region, but his policies, from abjuring nuclear armament to the cultivation of divisive vassals in the Fertile Crescent, did little by way of that recognition and ensured that the revolutionary republic to which he dedicated his career is in as parlous a state at his demise as it has ever been.

[Disclaimer: this article reflects the views of the author, and not necessarily those of MuslimMatters; a non-profit organization that welcomes editorials with diverse political perspectives.]

 

Related:

– Iranian Leader Khamenei Slain As War Brings Mayhem To The Gulf

– Genocidal Israel Escalates With Assault On Iran

The post Revolutionary Philosopher And Potentate: The Life And Polarizing Legacy Of Ali Khamenei appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

This series is a collaboration between Dr. Ali and MuslimMatters, bringing Quranic wisdom to the questions Muslim families are navigating.

When Your Teen is Depressed

There is a conversation happening in Muslim homes across the East and West right now that is costing lives.

It goes something like this: A teen is struggling. Not just spiritually dry, not just going through a rough patch — genuinely struggling. Withdrawn. Sleeping too much or not at all. Unable to feel enjoyment in anything. Sometimes expressing hopelessness. Sometimes thinking about not being here anymore.

And the response from the community, from extended family, sometimes from parents themselves, is some version of: “They just need more iman. More prayer. More Quran. A stronger connection to Allah.”

This response is not evil. It comes from a real belief that spiritual health and mental health are intertwined — which is partially true. It comes from love, from wanting to help, from a tradition that does teach that the heart is the center of wellbeing.

But in the case of clinical depression, this response can be catastrophic. It delays treatment. It adds shame to suffering. It can make a struggling teen feel that their illness is a moral failure. This only deepens the illness and can sometimes lead them to just give up on everything; sometimes even life.

This piece is for the parent who wants to do better.

First: Understand what depression actually is

Depression is not sadness. Sadness is a normal human emotion that comes and goes in response to circumstances. Depression is a medical condition involving measurable neurological changes — dysregulation of serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine, structural changes in the hippocampus, altered prefrontal cortex function — that persist regardless of circumstances and significantly impair a person’s ability to function.

A teen with clinical depression is not choosing to feel bad. They are not failing to try hard enough. Their brain is malfunctioning in a specific, documented, treatable way.

The criteria we use in medicine to diagnose a major depressive episode include five or more of the following, present for at least two weeks:

• depressed mood most of the day;
• diminished interest or pleasure in almost all activities;
• significant change in weight or appetite;
• insomnia or hypersomnia (sleeping too much);
• moving too fast or too slow;
• fatigue or loss of energy;
• feelings of worthlessness or excessive guilt;
• difficulty concentrating or making decisions;
• recurrent thoughts of death or suicide.

This is not a spiritual condition. It is a medical one, and it requires medical attention.

Why are we hearing more about mental illness these days?

While mental illness has existed throughout all of human history, it does statistically appear to have increased in a dramatic way over the past few decades. While a detailed exploration for the reasons behind this are beyond the scope of this article, I would like to reflect briefly on one of these reasons: stress.

One of the recurring themes of this series has been an attempt to help parents understand just how stressful the lives of their kids are today. While this stress is possibly worse in the west, it is quickly becoming a global crisis with the spread and penetration of social media and internet.

Your kids are going through intense pressure trying to fit in to a culture and system that is almost entirely the opposite of Islam. This is not only a problem Muslim kids face, but increasingly a problem being voiced by kids of other faiths too. We live in a godless society that prioritizes following your whims and pleasures, and it can quite literally break the psyche of your child.

What the Prophet ﷺ taught about illness and treatment

The Islamic tradition is not anti-medicine. It is explicitly pro-medicine.

The Prophet ﷺ said: “Make use of medical treatment, for Allah has not made a disease without appointing a cure for it.” (Abu Dawud — sahih)

He also said: “There is no disease that Allah has created, except that He also has created its cure.” (Bukhari)

These are not metaphorical statements about spiritual remedies. They are instructions to seek treatment. The Prophet ﷺ himself used and recommended physical remedies for physical illness, enough that there is a science called “at-Tibb an-Nabawi” (The Medicine of the Prophet). The principle extends naturally to mental illness, which is, at its root, a physical illness of the brain.

A Muslim parent who prevents their depressed child from accessing mental health treatment — on the grounds that therapy is un-Islamic or that the child just needs more prayer — is acting against the Sunnah. This is a hard thing to say, but it is true, and families need to hear it.

I do understand where this resistance comes from to an extent. Western, or secular, psychiatry has been associated with atheism and has often demonstrated a negative view of religion and religious ideas. And so it does make sense that a Muslim would not want a Muslim loved one to go to such a person for fear that they would turn them away from Islam in their vulnerable condition.

But, subhan Allah, our community is filled with Muslim psychiatrists and therapists. Many of these people are among the most compassionate, kind and devout people I have met, alhamdulillah.

They have an impressive record of helping Muslims struggling with mental illness, and have an equally impressive record of helping them without the need for medication. As a doctor who treats mental illness as part of my own family practice, I try very hard, with all my patients, to limit the use of medication unless it is absolutely necessary and the benefits outweigh the risks.

Prophet Ayyub and the theology of suffering

The story of Ayyub ﷺ is the Quran’s most extended treatment of prolonged suffering. And it teaches something that directly contradicts the “depression equals weak faith” narrative.

Ayyub ﷺ was a prophet — among the most righteous of human beings. And he suffered. For a very long time. With illness, loss, and social isolation that any clinician today would recognize as a major risk factor for severe depression.

Allah does not describe this as punishment for weak faith. He describes Ayyub as sabbar — deeply patient — and awwab — constantly returning to Allah. [38:44]

The Quran does not say Ayyub suffered because he lacked iman. It says he suffered because he was being tested. And it says Allah responded to his cry — not after he performed perfectly, not after he stopped feeling pain, but when he brought his raw suffering directly: “Hardship has touched me.” [21:83]

If a prophet of Allah could suffer in ways that resemble clinical depression — if Allah tested him that way, called him righteous through it, and answered his cry from within it — then the framework that equates suffering with spiritual failure has no Islamic foundation.

Your teen’s depression is not evidence of their moral failure. It may be, in ways we cannot fully see, a test. What matters is that they get the support needed to get through it.

The critical distinction: spiritual struggle vs. clinical depression

These two conditions overlap and interact — but they are not the same, and equating them causes harm.

Spiritual struggle typically presents as: feeling distant from Allah, loss of motivation for ibadah, questioning faith, feeling like prayer is hollow. It often responds to: increased dhikr, scholarly guidance, community connection, addressing specific sins or patterns, and simply time and patience. The person still experiences pleasure in other areas of life. Their basic functioning is largely intact.

Clinical depression typically presents as: pervasive low mood lasting weeks, inability to feel pleasure in anything — not just ibadah — changes in sleep, appetite, and energy, cognitive impairment, and in serious cases, thoughts of death or self-harm. While spiritual practices can help, it does not reliably respond to increased religious practice alone. It requires professional evaluation and often clinical treatment.

The important nuance: spiritual neglect can worsen depression. A teen who is also cut off from Allah, from community, from prayer, has fewer internal resources and less hope. Spiritual health is not irrelevant to mental health. But it is not the cause of clinical depression, and prayer alone is not a sufficient treatment for it.

The wisest approach holds both: address the spiritual dimension and ensure the teen receives appropriate clinical care.

Warning signs that require immediate professional attention

Parents should treat the following as urgent:

Any expression of suicidal ideation — including passive expressions like “I wish I wasn’t here,” “everyone would be better off without me,” or “I don’t see the point of going on.” Take these seriously every time. Do not wait to see if they pass.

Self-harm — including cutting, burning, or other methods of inflicting physical pain. This requires professional evaluation immediately.

Psychotic symptoms — hearing voices, seeing things others don’t see, severely disorganized thinking. This requires emergency psychiatric evaluation.

Significant functional decline — unable to attend school, eat regularly, maintain basic hygiene — for more than a few weeks.

If any of these are present, the first call is to a medical professional, not an imam. Both may eventually be needed — but medical safety comes first.

What to say — and what not to say

Don’t say:

• “You just need more iman.” This is theologically unsupported and clinically harmful.
• “Real Muslims don’t get depressed.” This is factually false and deeply shaming.
• “You’re making this up / being dramatic.” This invalidates real suffering and destroys trust.
• “What do you have to be depressed about? Your life is fine.” Depression is not caused by bad circumstances. It is a brain condition.
• “We don’t need a therapist — we have the Quran.” This is a false choice, as it’s not one or the other, and it may cost your child their life.

Do say:

• “I can see you’re really struggling. I’m not going anywhere.”
• “This is not your fault, and it doesn’t mean anything is wrong with your faith.”
• “I want to make sure you get the right help. Let’s figure this out together.”
• “You know the Prophet ﷺ said to seek treatment for every illness. That includes this.”
• “Ayyub ﷺ suffered for a very long time and was still called righteous by Allah. Suffering is not a sign that Allah has turned away from you.”

How to find Muslim-informed mental health support

Not every therapist is equipped to work with Muslim teens. Cultural and religious competence matters. Look for:

Khalil Center (khalilcenter.com) — one of the most established Muslim mental health organizations in North America. Integrates Islamic spiritual care with evidence-based clinical practice. Telehealth available.

Noor Human Consulting — Muslim therapists and counselors with an explicit Islamic framework.

Your child’s school counselor or pediatrician — as a first point of contact and referral. A good referral to a culturally sensitive therapist is better than no help at all.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — if your teen is in crisis, call or text 988. This is a 24/7 resource.

When speaking with a therapist, it is entirely appropriate to ask: “Do you have experience working with Muslim patients?” and “Are you comfortable with my child’s faith being part of our conversations?”

A word about medication

Some parents resist the idea of psychiatric medication on religious grounds, believing it alters the mind Allah created. This concern deserves a serious response.

The brain is an organ. When the brain’s chemistry is disrupted by illness, restoring that chemistry through medication is not tampering with Allah’s creation — it is treating illness, exactly as the Prophet ﷺ instructed. Insulin for a diabetic, antibiotics for an infection, antidepressants for a brain condition that is causing suffering and impairing function — these are all in the same category.

The decision about medication should be made in consultation with a qualified psychiatrist or physician, weighing the severity of the condition, the specific risks and benefits, and the patient’s overall situation. It is a medical decision, not a theological one.

And, as stated above, medicine is not needed in all cases, and is not necessarily needed for life when started.

Discussion questions for families

For teens:

1. Have you ever felt like you couldn’t talk about struggling emotionally because of what it might mean about your faith?
2. What would make it easier to tell a family member when you’re really struggling?
3. What do you think the story of Prophet Ayyub teaches us about suffering?

For parents:

1. What is your honest reaction when you hear “my child might be depressed”? Where does that reaction come from?
2. Have you ever struggled with depression or anxiety yourself? Did you seek help?
3. How can you make your home a place where mental health struggles can be named without shame?

For discussion together:

1. What does the Prophet’s ﷺ instruction to seek treatment for every illness mean for mental health?
2. How can someone hold both — seeking clinical help and maintaining their connection to Allah?

What is the difference between having weak faith and having an illness?

The bottom line

Your teen’s depression is not a sign that you failed as a Muslim parent. It is not a sign that they have failed as a Muslim. It is an illness that requires treatment — clinical, spiritual, and relational.

Ayyub ﷺ suffered. Allah answered. And the answer came not by telling him his faith was weak, but by responding to his honest cry.

Be the person in your teen’s life who makes it safe to cry out.

Continue the Journey

This is Night 17 of Dr. Ali’s 30-part Ramadan series, “30 Nights with the Quran: Stories for the Seeking Soul.”

Tomorrow, insha Allah: Night 18 — When Bad Things Happen to Good People (and: Is it okay to be angry at Allah?)

For daily extended reflections with journaling prompts, personal stories, and deeper resources, join Dr. Ali’s email community: https://30nightswithquran.beehiiv.com/

Related:

I Can’t Feel Anything in Prayer – Understanding Spiritual Dryness | Night 16 with the Qur’an

30 Nights with the Qur’an: A Ramadan Series for Muslim Teens

The post Is Depression a Lack of Faith? A Guide for Muslim Parents | Night 17 with the Qur’an appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Some people enter Ramadan with excitement, surrounded by community, family, and familiar rituals. Others enter it carrying fractures — the kind life leaves behind when responsibilities are heavy, relationships are strained, or the heart has been quietly breaking for far too long.

For many believers, Ramadan does not enter a life that is whole. It arrives into exhaustion. Into loneliness. Into grief that has been waiting for a place to land. Into a heart that has been whispering, “Ya Allah, I don’t know how much more I can hold.”

And yet… Allah chooses this month as a mercy.

In the Qur’an, He tells us:

“Allah intends for you ease, and He does not intend for you hardship.” [Surah Al-Baqarah; 2:185]

This verse is not simply about fasting — it is about the nature of Ramadan itself. Ramadan is ease wrapped in discipline. Healing wrapped in worship. A divine pause in the middle of a life that often feels relentless.

Because Ramadan does not ask you to be whole before you enter it. It asks you to show up — even if you are limping.

Ramadan Heals in Ways People Cannot

There are wounds people don’t see. There are burdens you carry quietly because you don’t want to be a source of worry. There are disappointments you’ve swallowed so many times that you’ve forgotten what it feels like to breathe without tension.

Ramadan meets you there.

When you wake up for suhoor half-asleep and weary, Allah sees it. When you drag your tired body to pray, even with a heart that feels numb, Allah counts it. When you whisper du‘ā’ with a voice that trembles, the angels lift it.

Ramadan is not a month of perfection — it is a month of return.

The Qur’an as a Medicine for the Fractured Heart

Allah calls the Qur’an:

“O mankind, there has to come to you instruction from your Lord and healing for what is in the breasts and guidance and mercy for the believers.” [Surah Yunus; 10:57]

Not a healing for the body. Not a healing for circumstances. A healing for the heart — the place where disappointment, fear, and longing live.

This is why Ramadan feels different. It is the month where the Qur’an descends again into the cracks of your life, filling them with light you didn’t know you still had access to. This happens not magically, but through action: reciting the Quran in salat and out of it, learning it, and putting it into practice.

The Du‘ā’ of the Broken but Believing

There is a du‘ā’ that belongs to those who feel overwhelmed, stretched thin, or quietly hurting:

“And [mention] Zechariah, when he called to his Lord, ‘My Lord, do not leave me childless, while you are the best of inheritors.” [Surah Al-Anbiya; 21:89]

It is the du‘ā’ of a prophet who felt isolated. It is the du‘ā’ of someone who had lost almost everything. It is the du‘ā’ of someone who still believed Allah would answer.

This Ramadan, let it be your du‘ā’ too.

Ramadan Arrives to Remind You: You Are Not Forsaken

Life may have broken things inside you — but Ramadan comes to gather the pieces.

It comes to soften what has hardened. To soothe what has been aching. To remind you that Allah has never stopped watching over you, even in the moments you felt most alone.

So if you enter this month tired, hurting, or uncertain, know this:

Ramadan is not asking you to be strong. Ramadan is asking you to be sincere.

Let this be the month where you let Allah heal what life has worn down. Let this be the month where you learn to breathe again. Let this be the month where you discover that even broken hearts can glow in the presence of God.

And may you leave Ramadan with a heart that feels held, softened, and gently restored — not because life became easier, but because Allah drew you closer.

Related:

Ramadan As A Sanctuary For The Lonely Heart

I Can’t Feel Anything in Prayer – Understanding Spiritual Dryness | Night 16 with the Qur’an

 

The post When Ramadan Arrives To Heal What Life Has Broken appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

This series is a collaboration between Dr. Ali and MuslimMatters, bringing Quranic wisdom to the questions Muslim families are navigating.

The Confession You’re Not Hearing

Your teen is praying five times a day. Or trying to. Going through the motions.

But if you asked them how they actually feel during salah, here’s what they might say—if they felt safe enough to be honest:

“Nothing. I don’t feel anything. I might as well be reciting math tables.”

Most parents never hear this because most teens learn early that admitting spiritual emptiness is dangerous. It gets met with:

• Lectures about weak iman
• Increased religious requirements
• Disappointment
• Fear that they’re becoming “one of those kids”

So, they perform. They show up to the masjid when you go. They look like they’re praying at home.

But inside? Silence.

This piece is for the parent who wants to understand what’s actually happening—and how to respond in a way that strengthens faith rather than destroying it.

First: Understand What Spiritual Dryness Actually Is

Spiritual dryness is the experience of performing religious acts—prayer, dhikr, Quran recitation—while feeling no emotional or spiritual connection.

It’s not apathy. A teen experiencing spiritual dryness still cares. They’re often distressed that they don’t feel anything.

It’s not hypocrisy. A hypocrite practices outwardly while believing nothing inwardly. A spiritually dry Muslim practices while desperately wanting to feel something.

It’s the gap between action and feeling. And it’s one of the most common—and least discussed—experiences in Muslim spiritual life.

What the Prophet ﷺ Actually Said About This

Most Muslim parents don’t know that the Prophet ﷺ explicitly addressed spiritual highs and lows as normal human experience.

Handhalah, one of the scribes of revelation, came to the Prophet ﷺ distressed. He said:

“O Messenger of Allah, when we are with you, you remind us of the Fire and Paradise until it’s as if we can see them. But when we leave you and return to our families and our work, we forget much of that.”

Handhalah thought this made him a hypocrite. That his spiritual high in the Prophet’s ﷺ presence and his spiritual low at home meant that something was wrong with his faith.

The Prophet ﷺ said:

“By the One in Whose hand is my soul, if you were to continue in that state in which you are when you’re with me and in remembrance of Allah, the angels would shake hands with you in your streets. But O Handhalah, there is a time for this and a time for that.” (Muslim)

“There is a time for this and a time for that.”

The Prophet ﷺ is saying: Spiritual peaks and valleys are part of being human. If you were spiritually elevated 24/7, you’d be an angel, not a human. And Allah created you human.

The presence of spiritual dryness doesn’t mean your teen’s faith is weak. It means they’re human.

Why Spiritual Dryness Happens

There are multiple causes, and they’re rarely purely spiritual:

1. Developmental: Adolescence is when abstract thinking develops. Teens start analyzing their internal states in ways they never did as children. A child prays and doesn’t question whether they “felt” anything. A teen becomes hyperaware of the absence of feeling—and that awareness itself can create anxiety.
2. Neurological: Peak spiritual experiences—moments of intense connection, tears in prayer, overwhelming gratitude—involve dopamine release and prefrontal cortex activation. But the brain can’t sustain that indefinitely. It returns to baseline. That’s not spiritual failure; it’s neurobiology.
3. Routine: When prayer becomes pure routine—same surahs, same adhkar, same places, for years—the brain processes it on autopilot. The lack of novelty means lack of attention.
4. Exhaustion: Physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion directly impacts spiritual experience. A teen who’s sleep-deprived, academically overwhelmed, and socially stressed will struggle to experience khushu’ in prayer.
5. Trauma or Depression: Sometimes spiritual dryness is secondary to mental health struggles. A depressed teen experiences anhedonia—inability to feel pleasure or connection in anything, including prayer.
6. Spiritual Growth: Classical Islamic scholars describe spiritual dryness as a normal stage on the path toward Allah. Imam al-Ghazali writes that dry seasons are when sincerity is tested. Anyone can worship when it feels good. The real question is: Will you worship when it feels like nothing?

What NOT to Say

Don’t say:

• “You just need to pray with more focus.” (This makes it their fault for not trying hard enough.)
• “Maybe you’re not in a state of wudu properly.” (This creates obsessive checking and religious OCD.)
• “You must have committed a sin that’s blocking you.” (This creates shame and fear.)
• “Other kids don’t have this problem.” (This isolates them and adds guilt.)

Why these responses fail: They all imply that spiritual dryness is a personal failure rather than a normal human experience that even the Companions went through.

What TO Say

Do say:

• “That must be really hard. Tell me more about what that feels like.” (Opens conversation without judgment.)
• “I’ve felt that way too.” (Normalizes the experience.)
• “The fact that you’re still praying even though it feels empty shows real commitment.” (Reframes it as strength, not weakness.)
• “There are times when worship feels easy and times when it’s hard. Both are part of faith.” (Gives Islamic framework.)
• “What do you think might help?” (Invites them into problem-solving rather than lecturing.)

Practical Support: What Parents Can Do

1. Check the basics first

Before assuming it’s a deep spiritual crisis, check:

• Are they sleeping enough? (Chronic sleep deprivation kills spiritual experience.)
• Are they overwhelmed academically or socially? (Stress blocks presence.)
• Are they eating properly? (Nutrition impacts mood and energy, which impacts prayer.)
• Are they spending hours on screens before praying? (Overstimulation makes stillness feel unbearable.)

2. Help them break the routine

Suggest small changes:

• Learn a new surah
• Learn different adhkar the Prophet ﷺ used in prayer
• Go to a different masjid for one prayer
• Make sure you don’t have your phone near you (vibrations or dings ruin focus)

Small disruptions break autopilot.

3. Teach the meaning

Most teens have been reciting Surah al-Fatihah since childhood. They can say it in their sleep—which is the problem.

Sit with them and go through a tafsir of Fatihah. Explain what each phrase means. What they’re asking for. Who they’re addressing.

Know what they’re saying in the prayer is the biggest game-changer for most people.

4. Normalize the spiritual journey

Share stories of scholars who went through dry seasons. Share your own experience if you’ve been through this.

The message: Spiritual dryness is a normal stage of faith development, not a sign of failure.

5. Separate mental health from spiritual state

If spiritual dryness is accompanied by:

• Loss of interest in activities they used to enjoy
• Changes in sleep or appetite
• Withdrawal from friends and family
• Hopelessness or thoughts of self-harm

This may be depression, which requires professional help—not just more prayer.

(We’ll address this more fully in tomorrow’s discussion, insha Allah.)

Warning: When “Pray More” Makes It Worse

Some parents respond to spiritual dryness by increasing religious requirements: more prayer, more Quran, more Islamic lectures.

This can backfire catastrophically.

If a teen is already feeling disconnected from prayer, forcing more of it can create:

• Religious trauma (prayer becomes associated with pressure and shame)
• Rebellion (they associate Islam with parental control)
• OCD-style scrupulosity (obsessive checking of wudu, prayer movements, etc.)

The Prophet ﷺ warned against this:

“Make things easy and do not make them difficult. Give glad tidings and do not repel people.” (Bukhari)

If your teen is struggling spiritually, less with sincerity is better than more with resentment.

The Metric That Actually Matters

Your teen thinks the prayer where they cried was more valuable than the prayer where they felt nothing.

But that’s not how Allah measures.

Allah measures: Did they show up? Did they stand before Me even when they didn’t feel Me?

The Prophet ﷺ said: “The most beloved deed to Allah is the most consistent, even if it is small.” (Bukhari, Muslim)

Consistency while feeling nothing > intensity that fades.

The prayer your teen does when they feel spiritually dead is building their character in ways the emotionally elevated prayer never could.

Discussion Questions for Families

For Teens:

1. Have you ever felt spiritually disconnected during prayer? What did that feel like?
2. Do you feel like you can talk about spiritual dryness, or does it feel shameful?
3. What helps you feel more present in prayer?

For Parents:

1. Have you experienced spiritual dryness in your own life? Did you have support?
2. How do you respond when your teen seems disengaged from prayer?
3. Are you measuring their faith by external performance or internal consistency?

For Discussion Together:

1. What does the hadith about Handhalah teach us about spiritual highs and lows?
2. How can our family create space to talk about when worship feels hard?
3. What small changes might help make prayer feel less routine?

The Bottom Line

When your teen says “I don’t feel anything when I pray,” they’re not rejecting Islam.

They’re experiencing something the Companions and great Muslims across history experienced. Something every believer goes through.

Your job isn’t to fix it immediately. Your job is to help them keep showing up—even when showing up feels pointless.

Because the teen who learns to worship when they feel nothing is learning sincerity in its deepest form.

Continue the Journey

This is Night 16 of Dr. Ali’s 30-part Ramadan series, “30 Nights with the Quran: Stories for the Seeking Soul.”

Tomorrow: Night 17 – Is Depression Due to a Lack of Faith?

For daily extended reflections with journaling prompts, personal stories, and deeper resources, join Dr. Ali’s email community: https://30nightswithquran.beehiiv.com/

Related:

When You Have Doubts About Allah | Night 15 with the Qur’an

30 Nights with the Qur’an: A Ramadan Series for Muslim Teens

The post I Can’t Feel Anything in Prayer – Understanding Spiritual Dryness | Night 16 with the Qur’an appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

The US buildup before the war, Muhammad Shehada on Trump’s cruel Gaza fantasies, EU censorship and more.

The following transcript has been generated using AI, and may contain some errors that we have missed.

Every Sin Has a Cure

The Illness & the Cure Series — Shaykh Ammar Alshukry

As-salāmu ʿalaykum wa raḥmatullāhi wa barakātuh.

I’m Ammar Alshukry, and I’m excited to be doing this series, in shāʾ Allāh taʿālā, in partnership with MuslimMatters, based on the incredible book by Ibn al-Qayyim: Ad-Dāʾ wa ad-Dawāʾ (The Illness and the Cure).

This is a book that scholars have long encouraged young people to read. They said that it is from the good fortune of a young person to benefit from it. Al-ḥamdu lillāh, I previously taught it as an AlMaghrib seminar called The Venom and the Serum, and I’m happy to reformat it for the MuslimMatters audience. What we’ll be doing is presenting summaries of some of the major chapters of the book.

The Question That Began the Book

The book begins with a question posed to Ibn al-Qayyim. I’ll paraphrase it:

What do the scholars of the religion say about a man who has been afflicted by a sin that he cannot leave, and he fears it will ruin his worldly life and his Hereafter? He has tried to repel it by every means, but it only grows stronger. What is the path to removing it? What is the means of escape? May Allāh have mercy on whoever helps an afflicted person.

You can see that the questioner asks with humility, includes duʿāʾ for the scholar, and references the ḥadīth:

“Allāh aids the servant so long as the servant aids his brother.”

This teaches us an etiquette of seeking knowledge: be gentle, respectful, and sincere when asking.

Ibn al-Qayyim responded not with a short answer — but with an entire book. That shows the depth of care scholars had for those seeking guidance.

The Core Issue: Struggling With Desire

From the wording of the question, Ibn al-Qayyim understood that the person was struggling with lust (shahwah). Some scholars even inferred he may have been referring to same-sex desire.

This is why scholars say the book is especially valuable for young people — because desires often accompany youth.

The Prophet ﷺ said:

“Allāh is amazed at a young person who has no ṣabwah (inclination toward desires).”

Passion and desire are natural, but they must be guided.

Chapter One: Inspiring Hope

Ibn al-Qayyim begins with hope.

He reminds us that every illness has a cure, including spiritual illnesses.

The Prophet ﷺ said:

“For every disease, Allāh has created a cure.”
“O servants of Allāh, seek treatment.”

Spiritual diseases deserve even more attention than physical ones.

The First Cure: The Qurʾān

Allāh says in Sūrat Yūnus:

“O mankind, there has come to you an admonition from your Lord, and a healing (shifāʾ) for what is in the hearts.”

The Qurʾān is described as shifāʾ — a source of healing.

The Second Cure: Duʿāʾ (Supplication)

Duʿāʾ is one of the most effective means of securing good and repelling harm.

But people often ask:
“I’ve made duʿāʾ — why hasn’t it been answered?”

Ibn al-Qayyim explains two main reasons:

1. Weakness in the Duʿāʾ Itself

The issue may be a lack of certainty (yaqīn) or focus.

He compares duʿāʾ to a sword:
A sword is only as effective as the person wielding it. If someone is unskilled, the problem is not the sword — but the user.

2. Impediments Blocking Acceptance

The Prophet ﷺ described a traveler raising his hands in duʿāʾ, yet:

• His food was ḥarām
• His drink was ḥarām
• His nourishment was ḥarām

So how could his duʿāʾ be accepted?

Spiritual nourishment matters.

Abū Dharr رضي الله عنه said:

“The amount of duʿāʾ needed alongside righteousness is like the amount of salt needed for food.”

When a person is upright, even a small duʿāʾ can be powerful.

Duʿāʾ and Qadr (Divine Decree)

A common confusion is:

“If everything is written, why make duʿāʾ?”

Ibn al-Qayyim explains that Allāh wrote both the outcome and the means.

• If success is written for you, striving is also written.
• If strength is written, training is written.
• If relief is written, duʿāʾ is written.

We constantly try to repel one destiny with another — ignorance with education, poverty with effort. Duʿāʾ is simply another means.

The correct understanding is that duʿāʾ itself is part of qadr and can change outcomes by Allāh’s permission.

“Duʿāʾ Is Action”

Shaykh Muḥammad al-Sharīf رحمه الله once said that the key to his success was duʿāʾ.

When asked, “What comes after duʿāʾ — action?” he replied:

“Duʿāʾ is action.”

Think about the things you want.
In the past seven days, how often have you sincerely asked Allāh for them?

Many people claim to make duʿāʾ, but often it is distracted and unfocused. The Prophet ﷺ said that Allāh does not respond to a heedless heart (qalb ghāfil).

Etiquettes of Powerful Duʿāʾ

Ibn al-Qayyim lists several keys:

• A present and attentive heart

• The last third of the night

• Between the adhān and iqāmah

• After obligatory prayers

He summarizes the etiquette poetically:

• Still your heart before the King of kings
• Begin with praise and ṣalawāt upon the Prophet ﷺ
• Face the qiblah with humility
• Seek forgiveness before asking
• Raise your hands
• Ask persistently — do not despair at delay
• Combine hope and fear
• Give charity before making duʿāʾ when possible
• Invoke Allāh by His beautiful Names

A duʿāʾ made with these elements is rarely rejected.

In shāʾ Allāh taʿālā, in the next session we will discuss the belittling of sins — how even small sins can accumulate and harm the heart.

Jazākum Allāhu khayran for joining us on this journey.

Related:

[Podcast] Vulnerable Sinners vs Arrogant Saints | Sh. Abdullah Ayaz Mullanee

The post Every Sin Has a Cure | The Venom and the Serum Series appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Wieland Hoban examines the war against Palestinians waged by the EU’s most powerful country.

I’ve been here before, standing at these gates, shaking a little—another Ramadan lies just past this doorway—but it’s never quite the same I or the same here.

Some things are the same, like the trepidation, always the trepidation—the feeling that I’m not ready. But is it not the Giver who decides on the timing of the gift and not the recipient?

I did not always see the gift, could not always put into words what it meant to me, but year after year, there was something to gain, something to learn.

As a child, I barrelled through its gates headfirst, shrieking with laughter at my big brother’s suhoor antics: tumbling out of bed minutes before fajr, bleary-eyed, glasses askew; glugging down a full pitcher of water as five younger siblings cheered him on; inhaling whatever food remained on the table; turning, with cheeks bulging, to whichever clock showed an extra minute. There were no decorations or coloured lights in my Toronto home those days, but Ramadan glowed brightly with family, good food, and a shared challenge.

As a teen, I entered its gates more mindfully, resolving to read a juz a day, along with the English translation. Despite my short-lived enthusiasm—when I fell a few days behind, I threw my hands up in defeat—it was the beginning of a journey. I let go of the timeline and puttered along anyway, taking charge of learning the message I’d only experienced secondhand. I filled the margins with pencilled-in notes, curly brackets, and underlines; my eyes and heart were opened wide; I often thought, How have I never read this before?

In my twenties, I saw Ramadan as a mirror that showed me where I was and where I needed to go. After iftar, I’d rush to get ready as family negotiations began on which mosque to visit that night, my father threatening to stay home if my siblings and I were late: If we’re going to miss ishaa, we’re not going! I found a space, those nights, when the words of God fell directly on my heart, and the world around me fell away.

There was space, too—an opening—for supplication, a direct line to request all that I wanted. The most fervent duaa, to be sure, was for a righteous spouse; Abee seemed the most difficult human on earth when it came to marriage.

Then, just like that, Ramadan came upon me as a new wife in a new land. Egypt was my parents’ homeland, Alexandria the destination of many past summers, but its energy and colour were lost on my homesick self—until Ramadan arrived with the comfort of constancy and the promise of a new beginning. Every street corner was bursting with its presence, from the gigantic metallic lanterns and strung-up lights to the recitation that filled the night and the callers who woke the sleeping for suhoor.

Another Ramadan taught me hard lessons on moderation, intuition, and respecting my body’s limits. My second child was two months old, my first a toddler; the summer fasting days were long and hot. But I tried to fast, ignoring all the ways my body was saying, This is too hard. I pushed myself, barely functioning, until my baby screamed all night because my milk had run dry. I learned that Ramadan was meant to be a mercy, not a punishment, and that exemptions were gifts from the One who knew we would need them.

As my babies grew, I learned to let go of my pre-motherhood expectations of Ramadan. I lived and breathed the knowledge that Ramadan looked different for each person, in each circumstance.

For me, it meant snatching exhausted rak’ahs while my baby wriggled on my prayer mat and, later, while my girls played pretend nearby. It meant, when I returned to Canada with my husband and girls and was working fulltime, that my living room became my masjid after I put the girls to bed. I learned that worship has many faces, some quieter and less visible than others.

Fast forward a few Ramadans, and I was back in Alexandria, where once again, lanterns and lights decorated every entrance; where recitation filled the night, voices crisscrossing on the breeze; where rows of worshippers stood under the night sky while stray cats scurried between the rows. And where, more often than not, I still pray in my own room—fighting fatigue and heavy eyes—while my daughters, now grown, each recite in separate rooms.

And I can’t help but remember the verse, And He gave you from all you asked of Him. And if you should count the blessings of Allah, you could not enumerate them. Indeed, mankind is most unjust and ungrateful.

So rejoice, my dear soul, at the gift that was not requested but desperately needed, at the blessing of another Ramadan and another breath, at meals and moments of calm, at hearts broken and bruised, yet finding healing in His words and in His promise.

Related:

– My Best Ramadan – Four Stories Of Ramadans Past

– Ramadan With A Newborn: Life Seasons, Ibaadah, And Intentionality

The post The Many Faces Of Ramadan appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

This series is a collaboration between Dr. Ali and MuslimMatters, bringing Quranic wisdom to the questions Muslim families are navigating.

It’s one of the most frightening sentences a Muslim parent can hear.

Sometimes it comes directly: “I don’t know if I believe in Allah anymore.” Sometimes it comes sideways: “I don’t see the point of praying.” Or “How do we know any of this is actually true?”

And in that moment, most parents do one of two things. They panic and clamp down — increasing religious requirements, restricting freedoms, escalating surveillance of their child’s practice. Or they shut down — changing the subject, deflecting, hoping it passes.

Both responses, though understandable, are likely to make things worse.

This piece is for the parent who wants to do something different.

First: Understand what your teen is actually going through

Adolescence is, developmentally, the period in which human beings begin to distinguish what they personally believe from what they were raised to believe. This is not a Western pathology or a sign of cultural contamination. It is how Allah created human cognition to mature.

The psychologist James Fowler spent decades studying faith development across religious traditions. His research found that a period of questioning inherited belief — what he called “individuative-reflective” faith — is a normal and often necessary stage of spiritual development. Teens who never go through this stage often have what he described as “borrowed” faith: practice without ownership, compliance without conviction.

The Islamic tradition itself is not threatened by intellectual inquiry. The Quran commands reflection — tafakkur and tadabbur — dozens of times. Ibrahim ﷺ, whom Allah called Khalilullah, His intimate friend, asked Allah directly: “Show me how You give life to the dead… so that my heart may be reassured.” [Al-Baqarah 2:260] He was not rebuked. He was answered.

When your teen asks hard questions, they are not failing as Muslims. They may be on the edge of owning their faith for the first time.

The difference between doubt and rejection

Classical Islamic scholarship distinguishes between two fundamentally different internal states that can look identical from the outside.

The first is talab — seeking. The heart that says “I’m not sure, but I want to know” is a heart oriented toward truth. Ibn al-Qayyim, in Madarij al-Salikin, describes intellectual and spiritual bewilderment (hayra) as one of the recognized stations on the path of the sincere wayfarer. This kind of doubt is a sign of engagement, not departure.

The second is i’raad — turning away. This is when the heart has decided it doesn’t want an answer. It is not inquiring; it is retreating.

Most Muslim teens who express doubt are in the first category. The tragedy is that when parents respond to all doubt as if it were rejection, they can push a seeking child toward actual departure.

Your job is to keep the door of inquiry open — not slam it shut with fear.

Warning signs that this has moved beyond normal doubt

Not every expression of religious doubt is the same. While seeking doubt is healthy and developmentally normal, there are signs that a teen may need more support:

Sudden and complete withdrawal from religious practice after years of engagement, particularly when combined with other behavioral changes.

Isolation from the Muslim community and peers simultaneously — suggesting the doubt may be entangled with depression, social rejection, or identity crisis.

Expressions of shame or self-loathing around religious identity — phrases like “I’m a bad Muslim anyway” or “It doesn’t matter” — which can indicate that the doubt is less intellectual and more emotional.

Engagement with online communities explicitly designed to deconstruct Islamic belief, particularly those that combine religious critique with personal grievance or hostility.

Declining mental health markers — changes in sleep, appetite, social engagement — alongside the expressed doubt.

If several of these are present simultaneously, the doubt may be secondary to something else that needs direct attention. In that case, a trusted scholar, counselor, or if necessary a mental health professional familiar with Muslim teens, should be involved.

What to say — and what not to say

This is where most parents need the most practical help.

Don’t say:

• “How can you say that after everything we’ve given you?” — This makes their spiritual struggle about your feelings.
• “You just need to pray more.” — This trivializes genuine intellectual struggle and can feel dismissive.
• “Other kids don’t ask these things.” — This isolates them and adds shame.
• “Don’t say that in front of your siblings.” — This signals that their doubt is shameful and must be hidden.

Do say:

• “Tell me more about what’s bothering you.” — Opens the door.
• “I’ve had questions like that too.” — Normalizes the struggle without dismissing it.
• “Which part feels hardest to believe right now?” — Gets specific, shows you’re listening.
• “I don’t have a perfect answer, but let’s find someone who might.” — Models intellectual honesty and commitment.
• “Your asking doesn’t scare/worry me.” — Perhaps the most important thing you can say.

What your teen actually needs from you

Research on religious resilience in Muslim youth consistently points to one variable above most others: the quality of the parent-child relationship. Not the number of Islamic classes attended, not the strictness of religious rules at home — the relationship.

A teen who feels emotionally safe with you will come to you when they’re doubting. A teen who fears your reaction will manage their doubt alone, often in digital spaces with no Islamic grounding and no love for them as a person.

Your teen needs to know that your love for them is not contingent on their certainty. That you are a safe person to be confused in front of. That doubt — brought to you and brought to Allah — is a conversation you can have together.

This doesn’t mean accepting whatever conclusions they reach. It means that you remain the trusted adult in their life through the process.

The resource conversation

One of the most helpful things you can do is connect your teen to scholars and teachers who have themselves wrestled with serious questions and come out with deep, grounded faith.

Not every imam or Sunday school teacher has this capacity. Some respond to doubt with alarm, which can further isolate a questioning teen. Look for educators who combine scholarly grounding with pastoral honesty — who can say “that’s a good question, and here’s how classical scholars engaged with it” rather than “Muslims don’t ask that.”

Classical works like Ibn al-Qayyim’s Madarij al-Salikin and Ibn Rajab’s Jami’ al-‘Ulum wal-Hikam contain rich discussions of the internal spiritual life, including intellectual struggle. Contemporary writers like Jamal Zarabozo, Hamza Yusuf, Ubaydullah Evans, and others have written and spoken accessibly about faith and doubt for Western Muslim audiences.

A closing word for the parent who is themselves struggling

Sometimes when your teen expresses doubt, it touches something in you. Maybe your own faith has felt shaky in recent years. Maybe you’ve had the same questions and never resolved them.

If that’s you — you’re not alone either. And pretending otherwise doesn’t protect your child; it just models that these questions can’t be spoken.

Your teen doesn’t need a parent who has never doubted. They need a parent who takes the questions seriously and keeps moving toward Allah anyway.

That’s tawakkul. That’s Ibrahim asking the question and then watching the birds come back to life.

Discussion questions for families

1. Did you ever have doubts about your faith growing up? Did you have someone you could talk to?
2. How can you make it easier for your teen to come to you with hard spiritual questions?
3. Are there questions about Islam you’ve avoided thinking about? Why?
4. How can you connect your teen with scholars or teachers who are equipped to engage with intellectual questions?

Continue the Journey

This is Night 15 of Dr. Ali’s 30-part Ramadan series, “30 Nights with the Quran: Stories for the Seeking Soul.”

Tomorrow, insha Allah: Night 16 – “When Prayer Feels Empty”

For daily extended reflections with journaling prompts, personal stories, and deeper resources, join Dr. Ali’s email list: https://30nightswithquran.beehiiv.com/

Related:

Week 2 Recap: Has Your Teen’s Approach to Relationships Changed? | Night 14 with the Qur’an

30 Nights with the Qur’an: A Ramadan Series for Muslim Teens

The post When You Have Doubts About Allah | Night 15 with the Qur’an appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

From the Chagos Islands to ‘windmills’ and sharia law, the US president’s comments do not bear much scrutiny

Donald Trump has been opining about the UK again, saying on Tuesday that Keir Starmer was “not Winston Churchill” and repeating his complaint about the deal to hand sovereignty of the Chagos Islands to Mauritius. Here are some recent things the US president has said about British issues, and how they compare with reality.

Continue reading...

Euractiv boss praises Trump’s belligerence.

Federal Council says entry ban followed unprecedented intervention by Fedpol director.

Is Ramadan really a time to simply withdraw from the world? When we are fasting while witnessing genocides in across the Muslim world, are we really meant to turn to private worship and ignore what’s happening?

Zainab bint Younus speaks to Dr. Farah El-Sharif about what grappling with the concept of resistance in light of Islamic ethics, navigating scholarly advice to avoid politics, and the fears that many have about the consequences of engaging in resistance. This episode highlights the importance of Islam as more than just a private religious practice, and the revolutionary potential of Islamic theology in changing the world – during Ramadan, and beyond.

[This episode was recorded on February 24 and does not reflect or account for up-to-date political changes.]

Dr. Farah El-Sharif is a writer, educator and scholar in Islamic intellectual history. She received her PhD from Harvard University where she specialised in West African Islamic intellectual history. She studied with scholars in Egypt, Morocco, Senegal, Jordan and the US. You can find her writings on Substack, “Sermons at Court.”

Related:

[Podcast] The Faith of Muslim Political Prisoners | Dr. Walaa Quisay & Dr. Asim Qureshi

[Podcast] Muslims, Muslim-ness, and Islam in Politics | Celsabil Hadj-Cherif

The post [Podcast] Ramadan Is Not For Your Private Spirituality | Dr Farah El-Sharif appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

This series is a collaboration between Dr. Ali and MuslimMatters, bringing Quranic wisdom to the questions Muslim families are navigating.

For Parents:

Insha Allah, you’ve now watched (or your teen has watched) six nights of content about relationships and boundaries.

But here’s the question: Is anything actually changing?

Here’s how to tell:

Signs of Growth:

• They’re asking questions about their friendships
• They’re thinking about who influences them
• They’re setting boundaries (even small ones)
• They mention the concepts from the series unprompted
• They’re more discerning about who they spend time with

What’s NOT a sign of growth:

• Perfect relationships overnight
• No more struggles
• Constant enthusiasm about the series

Transformation is slow. But it compounds.

For Teens:

You might be thinking: “I watched six videos. But, I don’t feel any different.”

Good. That’s actually healthy.

But, if you think you’ve “mastered” relationships in one week, you’re lying to yourself.

So, ask yourself:

• Did even ONE night make you think differently?
• Did you have ONE conversation you wouldn’t have had before?
• Did you make ONE small choice differently because of what you learned?

That’s enough. That’s how change works.

Discussion Questions:

1. For teens: Which night from Week 2 challenged you most? Why?
2. For parents: What did you learn about your teen’s relational struggles that you didn’t know before?

Together: How can we support each other as we move into Week 3 (Doubt, Faith & Mental Health)?

Continue the Journey:

Week 3 starts tomorrow insha Allah: Doubt, Faith & Mental Health.

Bi ithnillah, we will explore the following topics:

– Night 15: When You Doubt Allah

– Night 16: When Prayer Feels Empty

– Night 17: Is Depression a Lack of Faith?

– Night 18: When Bad Things Happen to Good People

– Night 19: When Islam Feels Like a Burden

– Night 20: Dealing with Guilt and Shame

– Night 21: Week 3 Recap

Continue the Journey

This is Night 14 of Dr. Ali’s 30-part Ramadan series, “30 Nights with the Quran: Stories for the Seeking Soul.”

Tomorrow, insha Allah: Night 15 – “I have doubts about Allah. Does that mean I’m going to Hell?”

For daily extended reflections with journaling prompts, personal stories, and deeper resources, join Dr. Ali’s email community: https://30nightswithquran.beehiiv.com/

Related:

When It’s Hard to Forgive: What Parents Need to Know About Islamic Forgiveness | Night 13 with the Qur’an

30 Nights with the Qur’an: A Ramadan Series for Muslim Teens

The post Week 2 Recap: Has Your Teen’s Approach to Relationships Changed? | Night 14 with the Qur’an appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.