بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْم
To the Blessed Family—the heirs of wisdom, whose lineage is not cut off, whose blessings remain:
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I write to you with a unique reflection on the law of cutting the hand, one that aligns with the wisdom of Caliph Umar—may Allah be pleased with him—who, in his time, suspended this ruling not out of defiance, but out of divine insight.
God grants light to those who fear Him, as He says in the Quran:
“O you who believe! If you fear Allah, He will grant you a criterion (Furqan) to distinguish between right and wrong.” (Surah Al-Anfal 8:29)
Umar was given this light—he distinguished right from wrong, and with that wisdom, he suspended the cutting of hands in a time of famine.
Why?
Because he knew that justice is not blind enforcement—justice is wisdom, understanding, and divine insight.
He made it clear:
No judge could implement this ruling. No Muslim could take it into their own hands.
Instead, he turned to those hoarding wealth, to those who refused to spend on the poor, to those who wanted the law to protect them while they let the people suffer.
His message was clear:
You want the law to cut the hands of the weak while your own hands remain free to steal?
He suspended the ruling—not for criminals, but for the corrupt elite who failed the people.
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Should This Law Be Implemented on Leaders Instead?
My blessed family, I submit this question to you:
If a Muslim leader presides over a land where poverty is rampant, where corruption is unchecked, where people are suffering while wealth is hoarded at the top—should his hand not be the one cut?
Is he not the true thief?
Would the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ have implemented this law on a man stealing bread for his starving children—or on the rulers and elites who created the conditions for his suffering?
When the state fails and poverty spreads,
When the people have nothing,
When the rich laugh while the poor beg—
Who are the real thieves?
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A Call for a New Certificate of Light
My journey is still in progress. My heart is in need of beautification, purification, and illumination.
I do not claim wisdom nor do I claim authority.
I am only a student, walking a path that many have walked before me—seeking light.
And so, I propose:
A Certificate of Light—granted not by institutions, not by books, but by those who carry the light, the scholars who are heirs to the prophetic tradition.
A student who fights his own ego, who purifies his heart, who perfects his character—should be given the blessing of certification.
Not a degree but a witness from those of light, a recognition that this person:
✅ Has struggled against his desires.
✅ Has fought his own darkness.
✅ Has trained under the people of illumination.
And with this certificate, he can then speak, teach, and lead—not as someone claiming knowledge, but as someone whose inner and outer states match.
My own battle is not yet won.
I am still struggling.
I am still seeking.
But I pray for the day when I will have this certificate of light, a day when I will be confident enough to write without hesitation, under the supervision of those who have been given light.
For now, I remain in submission—waiting for debate, waiting for refinement, waiting to be made ready.
This is my journey, and I ask for your prayers.
May Allah illuminate my heart.
May Allah grant me Furqan.
May Allah place me among those who illuminate, rather than those who bring darkness.
I submit this to you—what do you think?
Is it time for leaders—not the poor, not the weak—to be held accountable for their corruption?
The Muslim world suffers.
The people are hungry.
The wealth is hoarded.
Yet, the law is only applied downwards, never upwards.
Should the hands of the corrupt be the ones cut?