The world is neither a disgrace nor a curse, and it need not be shunned. We know that the Messenger himself never abandoned worldly affairs; indeed, it is said that he only withdrew from worldly matters during the final ten days of Ramadan.
There
are numerous hadiths instructing us to engage with this world. Carrying out
worldly activities—distinct from a hedonistic lifestyle—is a command. One
hadith states: "Meet Allah having shown devotion to your parents; if
you have done so, it is equivalent to performing Hajj, Umrah, and Jihad."
The Prophet even instructed a young man who wished to join a military campaign
to care for his parents first before going to war.
We
can see how worldly acts of virtue are recorded by Allah through the story of
the three men trapped in a cave. Allah only moved the stone blocking the
entrance after each of them prayed and recounted the good deeds they had
previously performed. One of them mentioned his kindness toward his parents,
specifically his constant effort to provide them with milk to drink. Surah
Al-Ma'idah (5:32) states: "...whoever saves the life of one human
being, it is as if he has saved the life of all mankind."
Cultivating
the earth and bringing prosperity to the world should not be trivialized. One
hadith mentions that a man who has purchased a pregnant goat or camel—and is
waiting for the animal to give birth—should not go to war; a pregnant goat can
delay a person from becoming a mujahid (warrior).
A
hadith narrated by Ahmad asks: "Would you like me to tell you who among
you I love the most and who will sit closest to me on the Day of
Judgment?" When those present unanimously answered "yes," he
said: "Those with the best conduct." Good conduct refers, of
course, to one's behavior in daily life when interacting with others—behavior
that is visibly evident and tangibly felt. Actions that are visual and
observable.
The
significance God places on tangible deeds is illustrated by the story of a
sinner who died while journeying toward the "land of repentance." He
was ultimately forgiven despite never reaching that destination, for upon
measurement, he was found to be a mere hand-span closer to the land of
repentance than to the place he had left behind.
Why
must this be so? Because human beings lack the power of kun fayakun—the
ability to bring something into existence merely by willing it. What humans
desire must be achieved through concrete effort: work that involves movement,
sweat, intense thought, and the experience of fatigue and exhaustion.
Tangible
realities are truly compelling. The past success of a now-banned party in
mobilizing the masses serves as a prime example. We know exactly which party
used the hammer and sickle as its emblem. The hammer and sickle are tools of
labor—real objects held in the hand day in and day out, things deeply intimate
to daily life. This was undoubtedly a shrewd choice; the party did not opt
for more abstract concepts like wealth, prosperity, or justice.
We
ought to take pride in being the people—the ummah—for we are the engines
of production in this world. The people are born of work, thought, and
creation; they are the active subjects of praxis. An image from a poem by
Hartojo Andangdjaja captures this quite aptly:
“The
people are us—millions of hands swinging in labor upon this beloved soil;
millions of hands moving in unison, transforming wild grasslands into
blossoming fields, sending smoke billowing from city factory chimneys, hoisting
sails and casting nets, groping through the darkness of metal and coal mines.
The people are hands that work. The people are us—minds tracing the path of
figures, insisting that two is two, navigating the intricate web of commerce.
The people are minds that inscribe the numbers. The people are us—a multitude
of voices in the skies of this beloved land… The people are a chorus of diverse
voices.”
*****