Siddiq Buckley

Why do we remember the dead? What purposes are served by such remembering? Let’s start by reflecting on some of these, both enlightening and somber, from the personal to the historical:

All of these are true and meaningful to us as human beings. We may not personally subscribe to all of them but we acknowledge their validity. Yet all of these rise to the surface of our collective consciousness on days like the 11 September and those that followed it. A day when death, like a lightning bolt from a clear blue sky, unexpectedly swooped down upon thousands of unsuspecting victims in New York and Washington. Shock and horror were palpable there and all around the world as televised images of carnage and destruction were played and replayed ad nauseam. Terror and agony etched on the faces of survivors fleeing from the scene were matched by feelings of utter disbelief, sorrow and grieving in the hearts and minds of those far removed from the tragedy. Each one of us felt loss on that day: an acute and painful loss of loved ones; a chronic loss of security and confidence; perhaps even a melancholy loss of faith in the goodness of humanity. To paraphrase the verse that Allah mentions in the Holy Quran, ‘Whoever takes a life, it is as if he has taken the life of the entire world; and whoever saves a life, it is as if he has saved the life of the entire world.’ This is true both from the macroscopic or humanitarian point of view and the microscopic or genetic point of view.

Many questions have been raised in the wake of that tragedy, and many of them remain unanswered. Perhaps, for many of those suffering, it is better that way. For others, though, it provides an opportunity to ponder and contemplate; to try to look at the bigger picture and derive meaning and sense from it all.

Why is it that death features so little in our thoughts – until a calamity or misfortune comes our way? The philosophical answer to that question is simple: most of us would not be able to function properly, think rationally or sleep easily if the shadow of death loomed constantly in the forefront of our minds. The sociocultural answer to that is found in the nature of the ‘real world’ that we have constructed around ourselves: a world where death is relegated to a very inferior position – to a personal, private, hidden affair - due to the miracle of modern medicine and the commercial, carefree and distracting emphasis on youth, glamour, hedonism and success.

Yet death persistently presents itself to us, if we stop or slow down enough to recognise it. We place much more importance on people’s deaths than their births or sometimes even their entire lives. This is because we come into the world as unknown quantities, but when we depart we leave behind us impressions, landmarks or other tangible signs of our passage. Along the way, we should become aware of the obvious signs that have been provided to remind us not only of our corporeal mortality but also of our spiritual immortality. There is much promise in death, for just as the day follows the night, and as spring follows winter, and as flowers follow rain on the parched and barren desert, so too does life follow death.

It is related by Abu Hurairah (ra) that the Prophet (s) said: "Remember often the Ender of Pleasures – death". In his compilation Nasa’i adds: "for truly, it is not remembered in a plenitude save it diminishes it, and not remembered in a dearth save it increases it". According to the commentators, plenitude here means an abundance of worldly goods and delights, and dearth means a shortage of spiritual works.

We are encouraged to reflect frequently upon our mortality and to remind ourselves that the obvious consequence of life is death. If we were non-believers then the looming spectre of death might pose either great anxiety within us or a fatalistic acquiescence to nothingness. Fortunate are the believers in God and the Afterlife: they look forward to meeting their Lord and Creator (albeit with some trepidation) and an ongoing existence.

The impending passage from mortality to eternity puts things into perspective. The glitter and pomp of mundane life pales into relative insignificance as the realisation dawns that our time is limited and every step we take is one step closer to our grave. As time is short (and the longer we live the faster it passes) we need to re-evaluate our priorities regularly and do as much good as we can according to our means. You can’t take it with you, so you have to leave something of enduring value behind.

Although we know that the intention is the act, or that we will be judged according to our intentions, this does not excuse us from acting. This is not a theoretical life we are engaged in, even though we describe it often as a game. Yet even our games have rules and umpires and penalties and boundaries and seriousness. The Prophet’s (s) advice to us is always relevant: "Act in this life as if you were to live forever, but act for the next life as if you were to die tomorrow"; "Be in this world as if you were a stranger or a traveller"; "Take from your health for your sickness and from your life for your death"; and "Die before you die".

Islam is not a morbid religion preoccupied with death (as some writers and journalists would have us believe), but it acknowledges the certainty and inescapability of death and incorporates it within its framework. In effect, death becomes – or should become – a catalyst for our reactions in life. It should speed up our rates of response to yield useful products without disturbing our overall equilibrium.

We must tread a balanced path, a middle or median way, through life……and through death.