The Question Is Not: Does He Deserve It?

The Question Is Not: Does He Deserve It?

Abu Hurayrah, may Allah be pleased with him, narrated that a man said:

“O Messenger of Allah, I have relatives whom I maintain ties with, yet they sever ties with me. I treat them well, yet they treat me badly. I am patient with them, yet they behave ignorantly toward me.”

The Messenger of Allah ﷺ said:

“If you are as you say, it is as though you are feeding them hot ashes; and so long as you remain upon this course, you will continue to have a supporter from Allah against them.”

Narrated by Muslim.

The hadith is not concerned with whether those relatives deserve to be treated well or to have the ties of kinship maintained. The man had already described their conduct in terms that left little room for doubt: he maintained the relationship while they severed it; he treated them well while they treated him badly; he showed forbearance while they responded with hostility.

Yet the Prophet ﷺ did not tell him: “Sever ties with them as they have severed them with you,” nor did he tell him to treat them as they treated him. Rather, he affirmed him in what he was doing and assured him that he would have Allah’s support so long as he remained steadfast upon that course.

And in his ﷺ saying, “It is as though you are feeding them hot ashes,” there is a powerful image. The mall refers to hot ashes. The meaning is that a person’s continued kindness toward one who wrongs him places the wrongdoer in a position of humiliation, guilt, and moral distress—as though he were being made to swallow burning ashes.

This does not mean that kindness is a disguised form of revenge. Rather, it means that when a person remains faithful to his noble character, he refuses to allow another person’s wrongdoing to corrupt his own nature.

And here lies the real issue.

The question is not:

Does this person who has severed the relationship deserve to be treated well?

Nor is it:

Does this person who has wronged me deserve my kindness?

For if we made people’s worthiness the condition for our morality, our character would become merely a reflection of theirs. We would honor those who honor us, maintain ties with those who maintain ties with us, show kindness to those who are kind to us, and forgive only those who forgive us.

That is not the way of the truly great.

A person of dignity does not make his character hostage to the character of others.

The same meaning appears in the poetry of al-Muqannaʿ al-Kindī, who said:

My people reproach me for the debts I bear,
Yet my debts are incurred in things that bring them honor.

I mend the breaches they have left neglected,
The obligations whose burden they could not bear.

And what lies between me and my father’s sons,
And between me and my cousins, is indeed unlike what they think.

I find them slow to come to my aid,
Yet when they call me to theirs, I hasten to them.

If they consume my flesh, I shall spare their flesh;
And if they tear down my honor, I shall build honor for them.

If they neglect my name in my absence, I shall guard their names;
And if they fall into error, I shall seek the right path for them.

Then he says:

I bear no ancient hatred against them;
For no leader of his people is one who carries hatred in his heart.

Al-Muqannaʿ was not a man who failed to recognize the wrongs committed by his people, nor was he incapable of responding to them. He knew what they were doing. Yet he chose to be greater than the offense directed against him.

And that is the difference.

To forgive when you are powerless is one thing.

To possess the ability to retaliate, yet choose not to descend to retaliation, is something else entirely.

To maintain ties with those who maintain ties with you is one thing.

To maintain ties with those who have severed them is something else.

To show kindness to those who are kind to you is an act of ordinary decency. But to remain kind when the other person responds with harm—that is where the true character of a person reveals itself.

Yet none of this means that a person is required to accept injustice, expose himself to harm, or allow others to violate his boundaries.

Maintaining family ties does not mean surrendering one’s dignity.

Forgiveness does not mean submission.

And kindness does not mean allowing oneself to become a vehicle for another person’s abuse.

The meaning is simply this: do not allow another person’s wrongdoing to move you away from the character you know yourself to possess and toward a character they have imposed upon you.

For morality, at its heart, is not a reward granted to those who deserve it, nor is it an automatic reaction to what others do. It is a choice about who we are. It is a declaration of the kind of person we choose to be—even when others give us no easy reason to remain so.

And therefore, the decisive question is not:

Does he deserve me maintaining ties with him?

It is:

What kind of person do I want to be?

Shall I allow his wrongdoing to determine my character, until I become another version of him?

Or shall I remain faithful to the value I have chosen for myself, while preserving my dignity and my boundaries?

A truly great person does not need to diminish another in order to appear great.

Nor does he use another person’s degradation as an excuse for his own.

He acts with kindness not because others have been kind to him, but because kindness is part of the person he has chosen to be.

And so the final question returns to where it began:

If morality is a choice about who we are, rather than a reward for what others deserve, can the conduct of the small ever befit the great?