Faith and spirituality

Fresh flour and clean water cannot make good dough if the yeast is spoiled. Nor can such dough produce good bread.

To raise a child of good character, one must nourish that child with a lawful morsel.

— Imam al-Ghazali

Moral: A child’s moral formation begins with the food placed on the family table. Lawful earnings and clean sustenance are the foundation of sound character.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

If adversity brings you closer to Allah, it is a blessing.

If a blessing draws you away from Allah, it is a hardship.

Moral: A hardship that brings you closer to Allah is a blessing, while a blessing that draws you away from Him becomes a hardship. What matters is not living in comfort, but which path you take.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

Long ago, a country had a custom: when a commoner died, the church bell rang once; for a nobleman, twice; for a relative of the king, three times; and for the king himself, four times.

One day, a court that people trusted to uphold justice wrongfully convicted a citizen. The church bell rang five times.

The bewildered townspeople gathered at the church. “Father, who could be more important than the king? Why did the bell ring five times?”

“Of course there is — justice,” the priest replied. “Today, justice has died.”

Moral: When justice dies, something greater than the king dies. Stand by the truth so that injustice does not go unpunished.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

A school principal invited several of his fellow teachers into his office and said to them:

“You are our most capable teachers, so we’re entrusting you with a group of our brightest students. Over the coming year, give them the best education you can and help raise them to a higher level. I wish you every success.”

Teachers, students, and parents considered this initiative a very good idea and were eagerly awaiting the end of the school year.

At the end of the year, their test results surpassed those of other students across the city.

The principal congratulated the teachers and said: “I have a confession to make. Those students we entrusted to you were not the most capable children at all - they were average. We chose them by chance.”

Hearing this, the teachers became proud and began to consider the students’ success a result of their professionalism.

“But I have another confession,” the principal continued. “You weren’t our most capable teachers either. I drew your names at random from a bag. You succeeded because you believed.”

Moral: Confidence can bring hidden abilities to life. High expectations may be the first step toward strong results.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

One day a dervish was asked:

“What is the difference between people who truly love and those who merely talk about love?”

“Wait, and I’ll show you,” he replied.

He invited several people who loved only in words and set a meal before them. First came bowls of hot soup, then unusually long spoons called “dervish spoons”. The dervish laid down one rule:

“You must hold your spoons at the very end of the handle.”

They agreed. They tried again and again, but the spoons were too long to bring to their own mouths. Soup spilled over them, they burned themselves, and at last they left the table hungry and embarrassed.

Then the dervish invited people who understood what true love meant. People with radiant faces and eyes full of love came and sat down. He served the same soup and gave them the same rule. This time, each person filled a spoon and held it out to someone across the table. They fed one another, laughed together, and rose from the table well fed and grateful.

When the guests had gone, the dervish turned to those who had asked the question:

“Now you see. At the table of life, the one who thinks only of himself stays hungry. The one who thinks of his brother and his friend and reaches out to them is filled in turn. In life’s marketplace, the one who gives is the one who gains, not the one who only takes.”

Moral: Those who think only of themselves stay hungry at life’s table. Those who feed the person across from them are filled in return. The one who gives always gains.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

One day a wounded bird came before the king and complained that a dervish had broken its wing. The king immediately summoned the dervish.

“This bird says you broke its wing. Why did you do it?”

The dervish tried to defend himself:

“Your Majesty, I wanted to hunt this bird. I approached, but it didn’t fly away. I came closer, and still it stayed. I thought it would surrender. But when I reached for it, it tried to escape, and that is when its wing broke.”

The king turned to the bird:

“This man is right. Why didn’t you flee? He had not attacked you suddenly. You saw him coming and could have flown away in time. And now you come before me and complain.”

The bird replied:

“Because he was dressed as a dervish. If he had been a hunter, I would have flown away at once. But I thought, ‘A dervish fears Allah. Surely he won’t hurt me.’”

The king was silent for a moment, then ordered:

“The bird is right. Break the dervish’s arm!”

The bird protested immediately:

“Please, Your Majesty, don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“When his arm heals, he will do the same thing again. Take away his dervish’s robe instead, so that other birds won’t be deceived as I was.”

Moral: The appearance of holiness does not make a person holy. Judge people by their actions, not their clothing; a robe alone does not make a dervish.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

A dervish spent much of his time in prayer and solitude. He did not want to depend on others, so he also worked each day, buying bread with his earnings and sharing what remained with the poor.

One day, while worshipping in the desert, he saw a fox whose crippled legs could barely carry it. “How does it survive?” he wondered. “Wild animals live by hunting, and hunting takes a swift foot. This poor creature has no feet. How does Allah provide for it?”

Just then, a lion appeared with a gazelle in its jaws. It ate its fill and walked away. The crippled fox that had been lying in wait crawled over and fed on what remained.

The dervish marveled and praised Allah, who had sent the fox its provision by means of the lion. Then he thought, “If the fox receives food without working, why shouldn’t I? I could give the time I spend on work to worship and earn greater reward. From now on I will not work. Allah, who feeds the fox by the lion’s hand, will provide for me too.”

He stopped working and prayed day and night. But however long he waited, no provision came. No one knocked at his door, and no one brought a piece of bread. Day by day he wasted away until he was nothing but skin and bone.

Finally, one day when he was exhausted, he heard a voice from the unseen:

“I gave you a healthy body, a strong arm, and a swift foot. But you likened yourself to a crippled fox. Why choose the fox as your example instead of the lion? Why do you covet another’s leftovers? Rise and work like a lion. Earn your living, and let those without hands or feet hope in you. Feed yourself and the needy.”

Ashamed, the dervish repented and returned to work. Once more, he earned his bread and shared it, abandoning the wish to live at others’ expense.

Moral: A person who covets the share of the needy despite having the strength is not trusting in Allah - he is simply covering up his laziness with faith.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

Soldiers mortally wounded in battle in Ottoman times were given sherbet made with Zamzam water, which doctors carried with them in small barrels, to sweeten their mouths before death. The expression “drinking the sherbet of martyrdom” originated from this.

Moral: Behind every expression there stands a history and a sacrifice. The words we use preserve memories of the past.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

During Ramadan, several young men saw an older man sitting in a corner eating and approached him with a teasing question.

“You’re eating, uncle — aren’t you fasting?”

“Of course I am. I’m only drinking water and eating.”

They laughed. “What sort of fast is that?”

“I am fasting. I do not lie, look at anyone with an evil eye, mock people, waste, humiliate anyone, gossip, or covet what belongs to others. Illness prevents me from going without food.” Then he asked:

“And you? Are you fasting?”

Ashamed, they lowered their heads. “No. We’re only going without food.”

Moral: If a person abstains from food and does not abstain from lying, backbiting, insulting, and evil deeds, he is not fully living the true spirit of the fast.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

In Turkic lands, tradition keeps a mother and newborn at home without visitors for forty days after the birth. The custom is said to date back to the Göktürks.

On the fortieth day, a close relative invites the mother and baby to visit and presents symbolic gifts: coins for prosperity; cotton for a long life and a gentle heart, so that he lives until his hair turns white; sugar for sweet words and a cheerful face; rice so that blessing may come to the home; salt so the taste of his mouth never fades; and an egg for a full belly and a healthy body.

Moral: In each of our customs a blessing and a love lie hidden. A baby’s gifts express hopes for an entire lifetime.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

An elderly man notices a barefoot child, is moved by compassion, and buys him a pair of shoes.

The child holds the shoes in his hands and gazes at them for a while. Then he looks up and asks:

“Are you Allah?”

The old man’s hands begin to tremble and his eyes fill with tears.

“No, my child. I’m just an ordinary person.”

The child thinks for a moment, then says softly:

“Then you must be a friend of Allah. Tonight I cried and told Him I had no shoes.”

Moral: Sometimes Allah’s help arrives through the hands of good people. Perhaps you can be the answer to someone’s prayer.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

If Allah has given someone a blessing, He will also look at how they used it:

If He granted you power, were you just?

If He gave you high status, did you show compassion?

If He gave you wealth, what was your character?

If He gave you a peaceful life, were you grateful?

If He gave you a life partner, were you faithful?

If He gave you children, how did you raise them?

Moral: Every blessing is also a test. What shows who you are is not what you have gained, but how you use it.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

During the Hajj, when the time came to cast stones at the devil, one pilgrim began striking himself with the stones instead. A young man nearby asked in surprise:

“Uncle, why are you hitting yourself?”

The man replied:

“My son, what business do we have with the devil here? First we must stone the devil within ourselves, discipline our nafs, and purify ourselves.”

* * *

The heat belongs to fire, not to the griddle;

karamat lies in the head, not in a crown.

Whatever you seek, seek it in yourself; it is not in Jerusalem, Mecca, or the Hajj.

Moral: The real struggle is not with the devil outside, but with a person’s own nafs. Karamat is not in the stone or the crown; it is inside the person.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

One day, I saw a man drop some money in the street. Usually I would have called out, “You’ve dropped your money!” This time I followed the devil. I picked it up and slipped it into my pocket.

When I got home, I told my wife the story.

“Add a little of our own and let’s go to the movies,” she said. I agreed, and we made plans for the weekend.

“You give your word now, but then you may suddenly back out,” she said. “Let’s buy the tickets online now, so we can be at ease.” So I did.

I work as a repairman. Soon afterward, a wealthy customer called to offer me a job at his garden on Saturday. I asked whether I could come on Sunday, but he said it had to be Saturday. Of course, that was the day I had booked the movie. I lost a well-paid job.

When Saturday came, my wife and I were about to leave when her parents arrived unexpectedly.

I was ready to say, “we’re off to the movies,” but my wife got in first. “We’re going to the movies—come with us!” There was nothing I could do.

My mother-in-law disliked public transportation, so we took a taxi. Naturally, I paid.

At the cinema, I bought two more tickets and before the film, a box of popcorn for each person. After all, the son-in-law had found money in the street; he must treat them! I had spent less on meat for the sacrifice than I spent on that popcorn. We soon finished it, so during the film I had to go and buy more. My windfall was already costing me dearly, but the worst was still to come.

After the movie, I ran into an old acquaintance with whom I had a longstanding quarrel. Despite the presence of my in-laws, he insulted me. I lost my temper, and we began fighting. My father-in-law joined in. By the time the police arrived, my nose and his arm were broken. We settled the dispute at the station, but I still had to pay both our medical bills.

Recently, I saw a man buying a doner kebab. When the seller handed him his change, some coins fell to the ground. The man left them there. I couldn’t help myself. “Brother, if you won’t think of yourself, at least think of whoever finds that money! Please pick it up. Don’t bring trouble on someone else!”

Moral: Money not earned by the sweat of your brow brings no good; often you lose many times more than what you found. Do not reach for what is not halal.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

To the restless, left without a home,

to the orphan, left alone,

to the needy, left hungry and thirsty,

to the sick, left in hardship,

to the one with a wounded heart, and to the one whose eyes wait on the road,

to the hopeless who can see no way forward,

to the heedless, left without light,

to the one who has a wish, who builds dreams,

to the faithless, and to the one left without You —

help them Yourself, O exalted Allah!

Moral: The last refuge of the helpless, the lonely, and the hopeless is the Creator. Prayer is the language of deepest need.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

Someone who used to say, “We’ll meet,” now says, “We’ll meet if fate allows.” I find that strange. I have not changed, and my feeling toward him is as warm as before; I would still be delighted to see him. Yet those words seem to place a barrier between us. I know nothing of his fate, and he knows nothing of mine. Do our two fates know each other? Can they arrange a meeting on our behalf?

Perhaps we should not expect anything from fate. Perhaps this is simply another way of saying, “Out of sight, out of mind.”

I did not like this phrase “if fate allows” at all.

Moral: Do not let distance grow between you and those you care about. Do not put it off by saying “if fate allows” — we meet; cheer the heart today.

Bakhtiyar Sirajov

The British painter William Holman Hunt’s work “The Light of the Universe” is exhibited at the Royal Academy in London. It shows a philosophical-looking man standing before a door at night, holding a lantern in one hand, knocking with the other, and waiting in hope that it will open.

An art critic asked him, “It’s a beautiful painting, but I cannot understand its meaning. Will the door he is knocking on never open? Have you forgotten to paint a handle?”

Hunt replied with a smile, “This is no ordinary door. It is the door of the human heart, and it opens only from within. There is no handle outside. If the one inside does not open it, you cannot enter.”

Moral: The door of the heart opens only from the inside. Love and goodness do not force their way in - you must let them in yourself.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

Our elders used to say:

Be a support to a poor person, a door a destitute person can knock on, a hand that strokes an orphan’s head, and shoes on a child’s feet. Open a way for the one in distress, and help the one whose affairs have grown difficult, so that a prayer may find you when you need one yourself.

Moral: When you help those in need and stroke an orphan’s head, you become worthy of others’ prayers. The hand with which you do good will one day open toward you as well.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

Moderate eating keeps the doctor away; honest living keeps the judge away.

“Moderate eating keeps the doctor away” means that if a person does not overeat and eats in measure, they can protect their health better and may need a doctor less. Eating little here does not mean going hungry; it means mastering the appetite and eating in due measure.

“Honest living keeps the judge away” means that a person who lives honestly, justly, and lawfully, and does not infringe on others’ rights, meets fewer disputes and legal problems. Here, “honest living” means both staying on the right path and acting conscientiously.

Moral: Eat in moderation and act with integrity, so that you need neither a doctor nor a judge.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

There is an expression in Turkish: “elifim noktalandı.” It comes from writing the letters “alif” (ا) and “ha” (ه) side by side in the old Ottoman script (اه). Because the “ha” after “alif” resembles a dot, people say “alifim noktalandı,” and metaphorically it means “my joy turned to sorrow.” The letter “alif,” with its long, thin appearance, expresses freedom and beauty, while the letter “ha,” with its bent, almost crushed appearance, expresses distress and collapse.

Together, the two letters form the sigh “ah.”

Moral: A single letter—or a single moment—can turn joy into sorrow. Expressions preserve the feelings and stories behind them.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

Once there was a man who had grown tired of wasting his days in idleness and living off his inheritance. Wanting to live honestly, he went to the king and asked him to show him the way.

After thinking for a moment, the king handed him a jar filled to the brim with olive oil.

“Carry this jar across the city without spilling a drop. If you spill even one, you will pay with your life.”

The king sent two soldiers with him to make sure the order was obeyed. The man concentrated with all his might and reached the far end of the city without spilling a drop. When he returned, he said:

“Your Majesty, I have done exactly as you asked.”

The king asked:

“What did you see on the way?”

That day the city was packed with a market crowd so thick that a thrown needle would not have reached the ground, but the man replied:

“Nothing, Your Majesty. I was so afraid for my life and so careful not to spill the oil that I could not look away from the jar for a moment.”

The king said:

“If you are this careful in every task you do and in every duty given to you, devote yourself to your work, and never forget that Allah’s eye is always upon you, you will never leave the right path.”

Moral: A person who gives full attention to every task, and does not forget that Allah sees him, does not stray from the right path.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

By Your names Ar-Rahman and Ar-Rahim, grant relief from our troubles.

By Your names Al-Ghaffar and At-Tawwab, forgive our sins and accept our repentance.

By Your name Ar-Razzaq, bless the sustenance You provide.

By Your name Ash-Shafi, grant healing to our sick.

By Your name Al-Fattah, open for us the doors of goodness.

Moral: When we recognize our helplessness and pray sincerely, the heart finds peace. Prayer is the language of hope and trust in Allah.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

An old prayer from the Turkic lands says:

“O Allah, give first to the mountains and stones, the forests, the animals, and the waters. Then give to the people, to my neighbor, and to those in need. If anything remains, give to me last.”

Moral: True generosity means thinking of others before oneself. This prayer carries within it an entire people’s tradition of sharing.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

As you wash the dishes, offer a prayer of thanks. The dishes show that you had something to eat, that you fed someone, that you cared for someone, and that you cooked and set the table.

Remember those who have not even a dish to wash and no one to set a table for.

Moral: Value blessings that look ordinary, too. If you have a dish to wash, food has come to your table and you have fed someone. Do not forget to give thanks.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

May Almighty Allah accept our prayers, bless our sustenance, heal our sick, forgive our sins, open doors of goodness before us, and fill our hearts with love and mercy.

May your Eid al-Fitr be blessed!

Moral: Sincere prayer fills the heart with hope and mercy. The wish for blessings, healing, and forgiveness brings a person closer to the Creator.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

I was in fifth grade. We were not in need of anyone. My father, a builder, had joined a housing cooperative, and we hoped to move into our own home within six or seven months.

One morning we woke up to a terrible shaking. There had been an earthquake. Thankfully, nothing bad had happened to us or to those around us. No one in our building was hurt. But although our house and our lives were safe, this event brought another trouble to our family: as a result of the earthquake, construction work had stopped, and my father was unemployed.

No matter how hard we tried to save, the money my father earned from the repair jobs he found from time to time was not enough to support our household.

My father couldn't find work all winter. He would go with hope and return sad.

A few days before Eid al-Fitr, he came home beaming: someone had offered him work. “They told me to bring my papers,” he said, hurrying out again. “I need to get them there today.”

A few hours had passed when our next-door neighbor came in with a panicked expression on his face.

“Don’t be afraid, but your father has had a minor accident,” he said.

At the hospital, we found him pale, his arm and legs bandaged. A car speeding through a red light hit him. As we prayed that he was alive, ashamed, he tried to hide the tears running from his eyes. “Why did I survive?” he said. “Now I’ve made things even harder for you.”

After a while, my father came home. Our stove wasn’t burning, our house was cold. Several of our neighbors had called the municipality and asked for coal for us. “No way,” they said — we had to register in advance.

Eid al-Fitr came and went without sweets. Despite all the hardships, the weather had warmed a little, and the bandage had come off my father’s arm, though his leg was still bandaged.

Then came Eid al-Adha. I thought to myself: “There are twelve apartments in our building, many of them will sacrifice. At least they will give us a share, and my mother will cook my favorite meat dishes.” As I watched from the window, in the empty lot opposite, the sacrificial animals were slaughtered and skinned, and bowl after bowl of meat was carried to the homes. Every time the door was opened, the delicious smell of meat being fried in the houses spread to our house. But unfortunately, no one brought us a piece of meat.

Meanwhile, my grandmother called from the village to congratulate us on our holiday. She sensed that I was worried by the sound of my voice as she spoke. She asked insistently and anxiously: “Has your father gotten worse?”

“No,” I said quietly. “The neighbors didn’t give us sacrificial meat.”

In the summer months, we would go to the village to my grandmother. She had a cow and five or six chickens. Her cow gave good milk. When she milked it, my grandmother would sing songs to her.

On the third day of the holiday, there was a knock on our door early in the morning. It was my grandmother who came. We welcomed her with joy. She hugged us all, crying. “My lambs, my lambs, I brought you a lot of meat,” she said.

We filled the refrigerator with meat. My sister cut some up to cook, and the delicious smell further stirred the appetite that had been growing for two days. Too hungry to wait for the table, I took a fork, speared a piece, and was blowing on it as I brought it to my mouth when my father’s words to my grandmother almost pierced my ears:

“Ah, mother, ah! Why did you slaughter that cow?”

I felt sick and my head spun. I threw the fork and ran outside. The cow she sang to as she milked it, my grandmother’s hope—had it been slaughtered because I craved meat?

When the table was ready, they took me by the arm and made me sit. Again I dipped the fork in, unwilling and ashamed, but the piece stuck in my throat and tears filled my eyes. “What’s wrong?” they asked.

“My tooth,” I said. “It hurts terribly.”

Moral: A celebration is complete only when others can share in it. In times of abundance, it is our human duty not to forget those who do not have even a piece of meat on their table.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

During the Hajj, when it was time to cast stones at the devil, one pilgrim began striking himself with the stone instead. A young man nearby asked in surprise:

“Uncle, why are you hitting yourself with that stone?”

The man replied:

“My son, what business do we have with the devil here? First we must stone the devil within ourselves—discipline our nafs and cleanse ourselves.”

Moral: The real struggle is not against the devil outside us, but against one's own uncontrolled desires. Purifying oneself is harder than condemning others, but far more valuable.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

A dervish was once asked:

“Why are your clothes so untidy?”

He replied:

“I spend so much time working on my inner self that I have little time left to worry about my appearance.”

Moral: A person who cultivates the inner life does not judge worth by outward appearance. What truly makes a person beautiful is not clothing, but a pure heart and a luminous spirit.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

A dervish lost in thought suddenly noticed the devil sitting beside him. “Why are you sitting so quietly, not harming anyone?” he asked.

The devil wearily raised his head. “You people cause one another so much suffering that there’s no work left for me.”

Moral: People oppress each other so much that the devil has no work to do. Most evil comes not from outside, but from within us.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

The dervish was asked:

“What is the finest thing that can fall to a person’s lot?”

The dervish said:

“To meet someone who wants to listen to you.”

Moral: Meeting someone who wants to listen to you from a sincere heart is a great blessing. Feeling that you are listened to is like being loved.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

A visiting scholar came to Tamerlane’s court. After a long conversation through an interpreter, he asked to meet the country’s scholars. Timur gathered all the scholars. None dared debate the foreign scholar. At last, seeing how afraid they were, the Mullah took the debate upon himself.

At the gathering, the scholar drew a circle on the ground. The Mullah divided it in half. Seeing that the scholar stayed silent, he divided it into quarters, claiming three for himself and offering one to the visitor. The scholar nodded. Next, he held out a fist with the back of his hand downward. The Mullah turned his own hand over, pointing his fingers toward the ground. Again, the scholar nodded.

Finally, the visitor pointed to himself and mimed eating. The Mullah took an egg from his pocket and flapped his arms like bird wings. The scholar laughed, kissed his hand, and the Mullah left.

Afterward, Tamerlane asked the visitor through the interpreter, “What did those gestures mean? We understood none of them.”

“Opinions about the world differ. By drawing that circle I said the earth is round and wanted to know your scholar's opinion about it. Mashallah to your scholar,” the scholar explained. “He drew the equator, then divided the globe into four parts, three of them water and one of them land. I asked about plant life, and he showed that plants depend on rain and sunlight.

“Finally, I asked about humans and animals. With the egg, he reminded me to include birds.”

After the visitor had gone, Tamerlane summoned the Mullah for his explanation.

“The scholar?” said the Mullah. “I thought he would be a learned man, but he turned out to be a fool and a glutton. First he drew a circle, meaning a pan of omelet. I divided it in half: ‘You can’t have it all—there’s me to consider.’ He still looked dissatisfied, so I divided it into four and claimed three shares to teach him a lesson about greed. Seeing the omelet slip away, he agreed. Then he raised his hand, asking for a pot of pilaf.

“I turned my hand down to say, ‘If it has a dark crust on top, I’ll eat it.’ Then he showed me his stomach to show he was hungry from traveling. I took out my egg and told him, ‘I’m hungrier than you, and this is all I have. Don’t ask me to share it!’”

Moral: The same sign is read differently in each person’s world. We often see the other in the mirror of our own thoughts.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

Khoja Ubaydullah Ahrar says:

“I have explored every path that leads to Allah’s pleasure. The shortest I have found is bringing joy to others.

“I have explored every path that leads away from Allah’s pleasure. The most dangerous I have found is breaking someone’s heart.”

Moral: The shortest path to Allah's pleasure is bringing joy to others, while breaking someone’s heart distances a person from His pleasure.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

Truth’s sword does not bend, and its wrist does not twist.

Moral: Truth is unbending and unyielding. Time passes and power changes, but in the end truth finds its place again.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

(A True Story)

Lisa was eight years old when she heard her parents talking about her younger brother, Oliver. All the little girl knew was that her brother was very sick and that her parents had no money for his treatment.

Only a very expensive operation could save Oliver. There was no one to lend them money. Lisa heard her father whisper helplessly to her tearful mother, “Only a miracle can save him now.”

The girl went into her room and took out a glass jar that she had kept in a secret place in the closet. She poured out all the money in the jar on the floor and counted it carefully—she did this several times. When she was finished counting, she carefully put the coins in the jar, closed the lid, and went out the back door to the pharmacy.

At the pharmacy, she waited for the pharmacist to notice her. He was deep in conversation. Although Lisa tried to catch his attention with various movements and sounds, he stayed silent. Finally, she slammed part of her money on the glass counter. He turned, startled.

“What do you want, my girl?” he asked irritably, and without waiting for an answer he added, “I am talking with my brother, whom I have not seen for a long time.”

“I need to talk about my brother too,” Lisa answered with the same irritation. “He’s ill, and I need a miracle to make him better.”

“What? You want a miracle?” the pharmacist asked, even more irritated.

“His name is Oliver. There’s something bad growing in his brain. My parents say only a miracle can save him now. How much does one cost?”

“I’m sorry, but we don’t sell miracles here, my girl. I won’t be able to help you,” the pharmacist said more gently.

“I have money. If it isn’t enough, I’ll find more. Please just tell me the price.”

A smartly dressed man who had been watching the conversation from the sidelines until now—the pharmacist’s brother—leaned down and asked Lisa:

“What sort of miracle does your brother need?”

“I don’t know. I only know that he is truly sick, and my parents say he needs an operation. My parents can’t pay, so I brought my own money.”

“How much do you have?”

“One dollar and eleven cents. That’s all, but if it is needed, I can add a little more.”

“One dollar and eleven cents,” he said with a smile. “What a coincidence. That’s exactly the price of the miracle your brother needs.”

The man took the money from the girl, took her hand, and said:

“Take me home with you. I’d like to meet your brother and your parents. Let’s see whether I have the miracle your brother needs.”

This well-dressed man was Dr. Carlton Armstrong, a renowned neurosurgeon.

The operation was completed without charge, and Oliver soon came home. His parents were overjoyed. “This was a true miracle,” his mother whispered to his father. “I wonder what that operation would have cost.”

Lisa smiled. She knew the price: one dollar and eleven cents, and an unshakable faith in the miracle that would save her brother.

Moral: Faith is a powerful force. Sometimes, when a child’s pure faith meets the kindness of a human being, a miracle is born.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

Someone asked a dervish:

“Where does misfortune come from?”

He replied:

“Examine your eyes. Have you looked at what is forbidden?

“Examine your tongue and ears. Have you spread or listened to gossip?

“Examine your hands. Have you taken what is forbidden or earned your living dishonestly?

“Examine your feet. Have they carried you where you should not go?”

Moral: The root of what happens to us can often be found in our own actions. Check your eyes, your tongue, your hands, and your steps.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.

One day, a professor at a university in America addressed his students as follows while starting a class:

“Imagine for a moment that today is the last day of the world. Tomorrow at this time everything will already be over. You have no chance of being saved. If so, what would you do?”

The students gave different answers:

“I would pray and ask Allah to forgive me.”

“I would say goodbye to everyone I love.”

“I would spend the day with my family.”

“I would visit my mother or my father.”

“I would eat all my favorite foods one last time.”

“I’d sleep as long as I wanted.”

“I would walk through the forest one last time and enjoy the greenery.”

“I would watch the sunrise and sunset one last time.”

“I would watch the stars in the evening.”

“I would cook my favorite dish and invite everyone I love to dinner.”

“I would go to the place I have most wanted to visit and wait for death there.”

“I’d find the people I’ve hurt and ask their forgiveness, and so on.”

The professor wrote the answers on the board, then smiled.

“Why wait for the end of the world to do these things?”

Moral: Do not wait for the last day to do good. Tell the people you love that you love them, forgive, and value your dear ones today.

Stories are taken from open Internet sources; illustrations were created with AI.