Title Page
Stories of the Scholar Mohammad Amin Sheikho
Part Seven
His Life, His Deeds, His Way to Al’lah
(1890-1964)
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The Great Humane Eminent Scholar
Mohammad Amin Sheikho
(God has sanctified his soul)
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Checked and Introduced by
Prof. A. K. John Alias Al-Dayrani
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English Language Editing by
Jackie Feehan
Introduction
You may wonder, as do I, and as do people everywhere: how could this great scholar have gained access to such truth, when all of the earlier scholars and the great guides and imams failed to do so? I would reply to you: a person has nothing except what they strive for.
Indeed, people are differentiated through their actions. This is true even for the Envoys (Messengers) and noble Prophets… and there will be a different level for everyone according to their deeds in this world.
Our own great scholar Mohammad Amin Sheikho was given awareness and understanding by Al’lah, and he was distinguished by his outstanding deeds and his great and humane sacrifices. Al’lah did not give him anything except that which he deserved.
God says, “And We sent it down deservedly, and with righteousness it came down.”1
The True Benefits of Almsgiving
A timely plan of the Wise Arranger brought this story to mind long after it had been forgotten by most people.
We were most fortunate to hear the details from the man who was central to this story. And as we learnt a great lesson and understood the high purpose behind it, we wanted to relate it to our dear readers so that they too might learn from it and be relieved from the hardship they face in this life.
Master Salah al-Din Sheikho, a son of the eminent scholar, Mohammad Amin Sheikho, recalled this story when he was afflicted with an apparently incurable disease and spent four long days suffering excruciating pain. During this time he remembered the recommendation of God’s Envoy (cpth)2 which states, “Help your patients to be cured by almsgiving”, and how his father had educated him to resort to this solution whenever troubles assailed him.
Salah had personal experience of the great effect and benefits of almsgiving whenever he offered it, so there and then, he gave a considerable amount of alms to poor and needy families and thus he was healed of his illness and restored to good health.
His recent recovery was still fresh in the mind of Master Salah when we, a few days later and by God’s Arrangement, met with him. He was happy and expressed his gratitude for the high education his father had given him in this respect and the refinement he had received by his instruction on adopting the methods of God’s Envoy (cpth) in treatment and in all other fields.
This difficult situation had allowed him to bring to mind a story from his past when he was still a child and how, by almsgiving, his father saved him from suffering permanent deformity of his hand.
As Salah began to recite his story, we saw his eyes alight with gratitude to God, the High Benefactor, and full of joy at its memory.
Two young boys were playing together happily in the courtyard of their large Arabian-style house, following one another and filling the house with innocent laughter. Salah, the younger boy, liked to sit on the shoulders of his elder brother Fathi; so Fathi helped him to climb up, then he held his hands and began walking around and turning right and left in order to frighten his little brother, but which only served to increase the child’s pleasure and laughter. In this light-hearted, playful manner the little boy was sometimes carried on his brother’s shoulders, and other times he jumped down and ran off to be chased by Fathi; these were always enjoyable happy moments for both boys.
This is how it was when, suddenly, a sad event interrupted their play and wiped out their pleasure. This happened when Salah was riding on his brother’s shoulders and within an instant he lost his balance and fell to the ground. The little boy fell without warning, so Fathi was unable to grab him to break his fall.
The little boy cried out sharply in pain… but Mohammad Amin, the boys’ father had heard the cry, and soon came from his room to see what the matter was. He saw his son lying on the floor crying, so he rushed towards him and asked what had happened and where, exactly, he was hurt.
‘Oh… Daddy,’ the boy answered, moaning, ‘it’s my hand… it hurts… I fell on it.’
The merciful father examined the area of pain on his son’s hand and found swelling and discolouration of the skin at the forearm, near to the elbow. It seemed that the fall had resulted in a hairline fracture or a break in the arm.
Without delay, the noble master put on his outdoor clothes and took his son to a physician to examine his hand. Indeed, when the physician finished the examination, he confirmed the father’s guess that the arm was broken and decided that it should be splinted. This was attended to in the proper way and he told the noble master to visit him again with his son after two months, the length of time needed for the break to mend.
The little boy could hardly wait for the time to pass and the day that he would be able to use his hand normally once again. But when his father took him back to the physician to remove the splint, he was shocked to see that the child was unable to extend his hand normally. Worse still, it had developed an alarming tremor.
The situation, as viewed, could not be considered as normal articular calcination that would need a short time to correct itself and then the joint would function naturally once again. The case certainly seemed to be more serious than that.
The doctor carefully examined the boy’s hand and found that the tendons had atrophied, causing the hand to become fixed, and that he would not be able to use it any more.
Faced with this distressing situation, the noble master wasted no time and took his beloved son by the hand and headed off in search of the surgeon-general of Syria, Dr. Nazmi al-Qabbani. The doctor was also the head of the National Hospital3 in Damascus, and this is where the worried father went seeking advice for the treatment of his beloved son.
Because of their old friendship which stretched back to childhood days when they lived in the same quarter, the head of the hospital welcomed his guest warmly and was extremely interested in the critical case of his friend’s little son. He immediately sent for all the neurologists working in the hospital for them to examine the boy’s damaged hand and to advise him of their joint diagnosis.
But, unfortunately, they were unable to add anything to the diagnosis of the first doctor who was consulted.
They said to their director that the nerves in the child’s hand had shortened through lack of use while it was held immobile in a splint and they thought that, in their opinion, the case was incurable.
However, Dr al-Qabbani was not prepared to let the mater rest there. He picked up the telephone and made the first of many calls to famous hospitals all over the world. He had decided to send the boy by the first plane leaving Damascus to whichever hospital might provide an effective treatment for the boy’s case.
He phoned to the American Hospital in Lebanon which was equal in levels of technology and experience to the hospitals of America. He also phoned many hospitals in Turkey, Europe and other countries. But these hospitals also gave him the same negative response he had received from the doctors in the National Hospital. They were all agreed that the case looked hopeless and there was not even the slightest possibility that the child’s hand could make any improvement. Thus, this physical disability would remain with the boy for the rest of his life.
The crushing news came as a disaster to the ears of the loving father, as his thoughts travelled to the wretched future that awaited his beloved son; so he asked his friend Dr. Nazmi in a sad voice, ‘Are you sure of what you say, doctor? Will my son’s condition stay like this for the rest of his life?’
Being affected by the heart breaking situation of the merciful father, the doctor replied, ‘I’m sorry, Bey! But it is a fact, and I am sure of what I say. I have telephoned medical experts in many hospitals around the world and, as you have heard, they have all agreed that this case is incurable. I am really sorry, but we can do nothing for your son.’
On hearing this affirmation from the head doctor, the noble master felt as if the world had grown dark before his eyes and a heavy weight had settled on his chest. An overwhelming feeling of great sorrow and discomfort had pervaded his heart when he looked at his son and thought about his future. He imagined him as a young man, standing handicapped among his healthy friends. Every time he looked at the child this distressing picture returned to his mind causing his grief and pain to increase even further, creating such pain in his heart because he felt unable to help his child and relieve him of this severe difficulty.
Silence reigned in the doctor’s office as he shared his friend’s sorrow and grief. Alas, modern medicine had only offered disappointment to both the father and his son! Without uttering another word, the tender-hearted father stretched his hand towards his son’s healthy hand and they left the room calmly, hand in hand.
All during the way home, the father remained silent, but his deep sadness was clearly etched on his face. When they eventually reached the house they found the mother impatiently waiting for their return. She was shocked by the sight of her little son, but she hid her feelings from the child and followed her husband to his own room so as to ask him about the matter. When the husband saw his wife coming he quickly concealed the signs of sadness that the heart-rending news had imposed on his face.
‘Oh, Abu Fathi…’ she said to her husband, ‘what did the doctor say about Salah’s hand? I hope you have brought me good news’… and she stood silently, but on tenterhooks, looking at the eyes of her husband as she waited for the answer.
To avoid her suffering what he was suffering, the noble master preferred to keep the true condition of their son’s hand to himself for a while, therefore he replied, ‘No, no… Um Fathi, do not worry. The case is simple; it only needs two or maybe three months to be healed and return to its normal condition.’
The compassionate mother could hardly curb her tears, and she said in a choking voice, ‘Oh, thank God… Praise be to God that it needs only two or three months to be cured, and not more.’ By his merciful conduct, Mohammad Amin made his wife believe that the case was not serious and so he relieved her of her anxiety and spared her the terrible feelings of extreme grief that she had not suffered so far.
Mohammad Amin’s wife then resumed her daily chores in the house leaving the noble master standing and looking around him in confusion.
A series of questions struck his mind that ignited even further flames of grief and pain in his heart, ‘What can I do about this terrible situation? Is there nothing I might resort to in order to save my son from living this permanent, difficult situation? Can’t I help him? Will he have to live with this deformity for the rest of his life?’
Faced with the reality of this bitter fact, the merciful father was consumed by sorrow for his son, and the earth, for all its vastness, seemed to close in upon him. So, he grabbed a chair and, opening the door of his room, he rushed out to the street where he banged the chair down beside the main door and plopped on to the seat.
It was acustom of the men of Damascus at that time to sit on wooden chairs in front of their houses during the afternoon hours, where they would usually read the Holy Qur’an. The women, however, did not normally leave their homes except when it was strictly necessary.
Our compassionate man was sitting there with all his thoughts concentrated on the difficult condition of his son. He was focusing on finding a solution when suddenly he remembered a noble saying of God’s Envoy (cpth) which states, “Help your patients to be cured by almsgiving.”
He stood up as if a new life had gushed inside him to dispel the distress he was suffering; then he dashed into his house heading for a particular place in his room from where he drew out a bundle containing fourteen golden liras. This was all the money he had at that time.
He was fully aware of the momentous experience he had just had, so he rushed out of the house, heading for al- Akrad Mountain where many destitute families suffering dire need and poverty were living.
He set about visiting these families, one by one, after he had decided to give each family two golden liras: a sum that was enough to support them fully for a considerable period of time, two months at least. He spent a long time in accomplishing his noble aim and it was late when he returned home, having distributed all the golden liras he had.
Even though he was exhausted, his face was glowing and appeared to shine with an inner radiance. He felt his suffering becoming less; however, he still felt the weight of Salah’s impediment impressed deeply on his mind, and his heart burn with grief whenever he thought about him.
He had taken every possible step and sacrificed all the money he had in order to save his son, and then he committed his cause to God, the Controller of everything.
His family was all asleep when he returned home, so he went to his own room and closed the door. There, he undressed, put on his pyjamas and lay in his bed, and it was only a few minutes before he surrendered his exhausted body to sleep.
That evening, silence prevailed throughout the house because all the members of the family were touched by the sad affliction of little Salah. And the merciful father was more deeply affected than all the others for he was the only one to be fully aware of the magnitude of the misfortune, and its probable outcome on the course of his son’s life.
It was dawn when the venerable master woke up and came out of his room to make the ritual ablution for prayer. As he passed through the courtyard he saw Salah swinging on the seesaw with his damaged hand. He stopped and gazed at him in wonder. To be sure of what he had seen, he called out to his son, ‘Salah, bring me a glass of water, son.’
‘With pleasure, Daddy.’ Salah replied and ran quickly towards the kitchen, and came back holding a glass of water which he gave to his father with a straight hand.
The father noticed that the hand was sound and free from any harm or defect, and he thought to himself that it must be the other hand that was hurt, so he said to his son, ‘Give it to me with the other hand, son.’
The little boy passed the glass of water from one hand to the other, and again held it out towards his father, saying, ‘Here it is, father… take it, please.’ How strange! The little boy had also extended the other hand so easily… and it was quite straight.
Was it possible? Had the afflicted hand truly recovered?
To ascertain what he had seen with his own eyes, the merciful father virtually leaped at his son and held what he thought to be the deformed hand. He examined it from all sides… then stretched it out to its normal length and laid his own hand over it. But this was all very strange… the day before, the little boy was unable to stretch his hand out… so what had happened?
Was it possible? Had the hand really returned to its normal shape and was it now functioning perfectly without showing any sign of imperfection?
But could the noble master possibly have mistaken the damaged hand for the sound one?
He dropped the hand he was holding and took up the other one and began to examine it minutely, just as he had done with the first.
Truly wondrous! Both hands seemed to be perfectly sound and active! There and then, the merciful father felt himself in the seventh heaven and turned to God to offer his wholehearted praise and gratitude.
He recalled how the doctors decided that not only was this case incurable but there was no hope for even the slightest improvement.
But how did this miracle happen? He looked at his son’s face and asked, ‘But how did your hand become straight again, Salah?’
The little boy replied, ‘Oh… Daddy, didn’t you see the man who visited us during the night? He was wearing white clothes from head to toe; he came to me and said, “Let me hold your hand, Salah.”
‘ “Oh… no, sir, please, I cannot move it; it hurts me,” I answered, and begged him not to touch my hand.
‘But he insisted, “Do not worry, let me hold it.”
‘He took my hand and said, “By God’s Will there will be no harm in it.” He spread it out and stroked it with his hand while mentioning the Name of Al’lah.
‘He did it like this, father,’ said Salah, as he imitated the way the man had stroked his hand.
‘Oh, Daddy,’ the boy continued, ‘as soon as he put his hand on mine and stretched it I felt that it had been cured and returned to normal.’
In fact, the boy was relating the details of a dream he had when he was asleep but he thought it was something that actually had taken place in reality. This was why he asked his father if he had seen the man or not.
When the sun rose and the morning light spread its gentle rays all over the universe, the father quickly donned his outdoor clothes and told his son to do the same; then they both left the house heading for the National Hospital.
They went straight to the office of the head doctor who was surprised by the visit of his old friend. The doctor thought that the merciful father still had a hope that medical knowledge might cure his son and that he wanted his help to make further tests.
The doctor addressed the noble master saying, ‘Oh, Bey! By God, we can do nothing for your son. His case is no doubt incurable. You are so dear to me for we spent our childhood days living in the same quarter, and enjoyed wonderful times together. And because of the deep affection I have for you, I consider your son my son. So believe me, if I knew that there was the possibility of an effective treatment, whether in America, Russia, France or any other country, I would have sent him there by air without any delay.’
‘But doctor… ‘ the noble master said to his friend, ‘I have not come here for my son to be treated, I have come to show you that his hand has been cured by God’s Favour and Grace and there’s no longer anything wrong with it.’
On hearing these unbelievable words, Dr. Nazmi looked in amazement at the face of his friend for he was shocked at hearing his most beloved friend saying what was, in his belief, unattainable. He could not hide his affection for his dear friend and his tears flowed abundantly down his cheeks.
The doctor thought that his friend Mohammad Amin could not bear the calamity that had befallen his son and so because of his deep grief he had become mentally disturbed, and was suffering from a state of spiritual disorder. This caused the doctor to become deeply affected by the state of his friend and so his tears flowed while he thought to himself, ‘Oh, my poor friend… may God soothe your distress and help you regain your senses. May He grant you forbearance for what He willed and judged to be right for your son.’
Having noticed the tears flowing from the doctor’s eyes, the noble master understood exactly what was running through his head… and then his voice rang out around the room, ‘Doctor, I am still in my right senses, I haven’t lost my mind. Here is my son, come on… examine his hand yourself.
‘Your human medical science judged that it was impossible for my son’s hand to be cured; as for the medicine of our master Mohammad (cpth) it does not confess impossibilities. Yes, indeed, the Master of all Creation has cured my son and here he is standing before you, you can verify what I say for yourself.’
The doctor moved towards the little boy but still doubting and disbelieving the words of his friend. He bent down and held the child’s hand which, as he remembered, was afflicted one and then he began to examine it. He found it intact; he moved it up and down, stretched it and bent it, and in all movements it reacted normally and perfectly.
He thought, ‘Is it possible? This is not just a question of improvement, but it’s a perfect cure!’
But again doubts crept to his mind that he might have mistaken the injured hand for the uninjured one; therefore he took the other hand and began to examine it, but he found it just like the first hand… sound and normal.
‘Oh my God, it is really a miracle but how did this happen?’ The doctor stood up stupefied by what he had seen with his own eyes, and touched with his own hands.
He rushed towards the phone and called for an emergency meeting with all the doctors in the hospital, excluding those who had surgeries at that time. When the procession of doctors came into the room, the head of the hospital addressed them saying, ‘I want to consult with you about the case of the little boy, Salah… I think you still remember him. I want to ask if there is any possibility that his hand could be cured, or if there is any way to offer him medical treatment so that his hand may be healed or at least might improve.’
The doctors recognised Salah and remembered well his condition when he had come the day before. So, the doctors who were specialists in this field immediately replied, ‘No sir, there is absolutely no way. This is an incurable case and it is impossible for it even to attain any degree of improvement.’
‘But… doctors,’ Dr. Nazmi said, ‘the impossible has become possible, and this boy’s hand has been fully cured.’
The doctors looked at their chief with eyes opened wide in surprise, expressing their denial of what they had just heard; but just as their chief had done before they came in, one by one they approached the little boy and examined both of his hands until they all were assured that the harmed hand had been cured truly and perfectly, and returned to its normal condition.
There was but a single thought that passed through the minds of all the doctors present, ‘Is this believable? The hand has become sound and active once again as if there was nothing wrong with it. But how did this happen when the combined medical knowledge of doctors from all parts of the world could offer no treatment and not even one degree of improvement for such a case?’
They asked the noble master to tell them how this miracle had happened. Willingly, he informed them how he had acted in accordance with the noble saying of God’s Envoy about almsgiving, and that this was the secret behind the cure of his beloved son’s hand.
This amazing event was published in detail in a wellknown daily journal of that time, called al-Ayyam.
True, indeed, are the noble sayings of the Envoy of God (cpth).
The Haunted House
One day, Mohammad Amin Sheikho wanted to buy a new house. So, helped by one of his relatives, he was able to find a suitable
Impressum
Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG
Texte: Amin-sheikho.com
Lektorat: Prof. A. K. John Alias Al-Dayrani
Übersetzung: Jackie Feehan
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 27.05.2019
ISBN: 978-3-7487-0576-5
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