Shaykh al-Ṭūsī and His Lamp

In the golden city of Najaf, beneath the enduring shadow of the shrine of Amīr al-Mu’minīn (ʿalayhis-salām), lived a man whose light has continued to guide hearts and minds for nearly a millennium—Shaykh Abū Jaʿfar al-Ṭūsī. Revered for his towering intellect and encyclopaedic command over Islamic sciences, Shaykh Ṭūsī was not merely a jurist or theologian; he was a beacon of humility, compassion, and spiritual depth.

Originally from Ṭūs in the region of Khurāsān, he journeyed westward in search of sacred knowledge, eventually studying under some of the greatest scholars of his time. His pursuit led him to Baghdad, the intellectual capital of the era, where he quickly distinguished himself. But it was Najaf, with its sacred soil and spiritual atmosphere, that captured his heart. There, under the protective grace of Imām ʿAlī’s shrine, Shaykh Ṭūsī laid down roots that would shape the future of Shiʿi scholarship for generations.

In Najaf, he taught, wrote prolifically, debated with clarity, and inspired all who crossed his path. His works—such as al-Istibsār, al-Tahdhīb, and al-Khilāf—remain foundational texts studied in seminaries to this day. Yet, beyond the brilliance of his scholarly contributions, something even more radiant defined him—his character.

It is said that during his early years in Najaf, while deeply immersed in his studies and writings, he would light a single oil lamp to read and teach by night. One evening, a young student, hesitant and visibly poor, knocked on the Shaykh’s door. “O Master,” he murmured, “I cannot afford a lamp of my own. Might I study by yours?” Shaykh Ṭūsī paused, then smiled with his characteristic gentleness. Drawing the lamp closer to the student, he replied, “This light belongs to knowledge—and knowledge is not owned by any one of us.”

From that night on, his modest home became a sanctuary for seekers. More students came—some barefoot, some hungry, all yearning to learn. Shaykh Ṭūsī never turned anyone away. He shared his lamp, his food, his ink, his paper—his very time. Even when weary or burdened by the demands of leadership, he remained devoted to nurturing the minds and hearts of those around him.

Despite his responsibilities, he never abandoned Salāt al-Layl, the night prayer. Those close to him would sometimes hear him weeping quietly before dawn, whispering: “O Allah, let me be a lamp for others, even if I burn myself.”

It was with this spirit of sacrifice and sincerity that he founded the Ḥawza of Najaf—an institution that would become one of the most influential centres of Islamic learning in the world.

Dear reader, in an age of noise, ego, and self-promotion, Shaykh Ṭūsī’s legacy reminds us that true greatness lies in quiet service, in selfless giving, and in walking humbly with knowledge. Let us strive to be lamps in our own lives—not to be seen, but so others may see.

May Allah illuminate our hearts through the enduring light of His righteous servants.

The Three Days of Hunger

It was the month of Ramadan in Medina, and the air was filled with the fragrance of freshly baked bread from the humble home of Imam Ali (a) and Sayyida Fatima (a). As the golden light of sunset signaled the time to break their fast, Imam Hasan (a) and Imam Hussain (a) eagerly sat down, their small hands reaching for the food they had longed for all day. The hunger they had felt since dawn made the meal even more precious.

Just as they were about to take their first bite, a faint knock echoed from the door. Sayyida Fatima (a) immediately rose and went to answer it. A poor beggar stood before her; his eyes full of desperation.

“O family of the Prophet,” he pleaded, “I am starving and have nothing to eat. Can you spare me some food?”

Imam Ali (a) looked at his family and smiled gently. Without hesitation, he motioned for his family to give everything they had. One by one, they handed their bread over to the beggar, leaving themselves with nothing but water. Despite their own hunger, they felt compassion for the man’s suffering.

That night, the family went to bed hungry, but their hearts were filled with contentment in their sacrifice for the sake of Allah.

The next day, they fasted again. As the sun set, signalling the time to break their fast, another knock came at the door. This time, it was an orphan, shivering from hunger. Sayyida Fatima (a) opened the door, and once again, the family gave up their food, placing their last meal in the hands of the orphan. They chose to remain hungry rather than turn someone away.

On the third night, after fasting throughout the day, the family prepared to eat, but another figure appeared at the door—a prisoner, frail and exhausted from captivity. His plea for food was met with the same selflessness. Imam Ali (a), Sayyida Fatima (a), Imam Hasan (a), and Imam Hussain (a) shared their remaining food with the prisoner, leaving nothing for themselves.

For three days, this noble family went without food, choosing sacrifice and compassion for others over their own comfort. Their devotion to Allah and care for others, even in their time of need, was a profound act of faith.

Allah, pleased with their selflessness, revealed Surah Al-Insan (76:8-9):

“They give food, despite their love for it, to the needy, the orphan, and the captive, (saying) ‘We feed you for the sake of Allah alone; we desire neither reward nor thanks from you.’”

On the fourth day, as their hunger became unbearable, Allah sent them heavenly sustenance as a divine reward. Their story became an eternal lesson: true fasting is not just abstaining from food, but practicing selflessness, compassion, and putting others before our own desires. The family of the Prophet’s example continues to inspire all who seek to live a life of generosity and humility.