After the Battle of Uhud, it is narrated that the Angel Jibrail came down and gave the well-known declaration: “There is no hero but Ali, there is no sword but Dhulfiqar.”

In light of that, and to turn to the stories of the sahaba, rather than modern thought or the intellect God gave us, I thought of these two stories. The first is from Rumi (although surviving the Mongol invasion may make him a bit of an effete faqih):


*Words of ‘Ali when he refused to kill an opponent who spat in his
face.*
For God’s sake, for Reality
whose slave I am, I wield this sword.
The body does not command me,
nor does the lion of craving
overcome the lion of God.
Like a sword wielded by the sun,
I embody these words in war:
Thou didst not throw when thou threwest.-
I’ve dropped the baggage of self.
The which is not God is nothing.
God is the sun, and I am a shadow.
Jewelled with teh pearls of Union,
my sword bring life in battle, not death.
Blood will not dull my shining sword;
nor will the wind blow my sky away.
I am not chaff but a mountain of patience.
What fierce wind could lift a mountain?
What the wind blows away is trash,
and winds blow form every side ƒ~
the winds of anger, lust, and greed
carry away those who do not keep
the times of prayer. I am a mountain,
and my being is his building.
If I am tossed like a straw,
it is His wind that moves me.
Only His wind stirs my desires.
My Captain is love of the One.
Anger is a king over kings,
but anger, once bridled may serve.
A gentle sword struck the neck of anger.
  God’s anger came on like mercy.

There is also this profoundly moving story that I tell often when delivering wa’z:

The Stranger

Taken from Anecdotes of Pious Men, Allama Murtaza Motahhari

Tired and exhausted with the water-skin on her back, she was gasping and going towards her house where innocent children, their eyes fixed at the door, were eagerly waiting for the arrival of their mother. On her way, an unknown man approached her. He took the water-skin from her and placed it on his back. The door opened and the children saw their mother entering the house with a stranger. He placed the water-skin on the ground and said:

“Well, it seems you don’t have anyone to fetch water for you; how come you are so forlorn?”

“My husband was a soldier; Ali sent him to the frontier where he was killed. Now I am alone with these small children”

The stranger said no more. Bowing down his head he went away. But the thought of the helpless window and orphans remained in his mind. He could hardly sleep in the night. Early in the morning he picked up a basket; put some meat, flour and dates in it; went straight to her house and knocked at the door.

“Who are you?”

“I am the man who brought your water yesterday. Now I have brought some food for the children”

“May God bless you and judge between us and Ali”

She opened the door. Entering the house she said:

“I wish to do some good acts. Either let me knead the flour and bake the bread or allow me to look after the children”

“Very well, but I can do the job of kneading and cooking better than you. You take care of the children till I finish cooking”

She went to knead the flour. Immediately he grilled some meat which he had brought and fed the children saying to each child while putting morsel in his mouth:

“My son, forgive Ali if he has failed in his duty towards you”

The flour got ready; she called: “Gentleman! put fire in the oven” He went and put fire in the oven. When flames rose up, he brought his face near the fire and said,

“Taste the heat of fire. It is the punishment for those who fail in their duty towards orphans and widows.”

By chance, a woman from the neighbouring house came in. Recognizing the stranger, she cried: “Woe, don’t you recognize the man who is helping you? He is Amirul-Muumineen (commander of the faithful) Ali bin Abi-Talib”

The widow came forward and shame facedly cried:

“Curse and shame to me. I beg your pardon.”

“No, I beg your pardon for I failed in my duty towards you.”