These seven letters mark the beginning of Dearest Gaza, written during a time when the suffering of the Gaza Strip unfolded in full view of the world and many of us found ourselves watching from afar, unsure what witnessing truly demanded of us. They are not reports, arguments, or attempts to explain events, but reflections on faith, distance, responsibility, and what it means to belong to an ummah that feels both connected and powerless in the face of injustice. These letters form the first stones of this archive. They are an opening act of remembrance and witness, from which other voices may one day emerge to write, reflect, and carry forward the act of remembering.
Dearest Gaza,
There is a word that Muslims repeat often when speaking about hardship. That word is sabr. It appears many times in the Qur’an and it was spoken frequently by the Prophet ﷺ when people faced difficulty. Yet it is a word that many of us understand only in theory, because most of us live lives where the tests of patience are small compared with those faced by others.
The Qur’an reminds believers that patience is not simply a matter of enduring discomfort. Allah says, “Indeed, Allah is with the patient.” This verse appears in different places in the Qur’an and it was recited by the companions of the Prophet ﷺ during moments of hardship. For them, patience was not passive acceptance. It was a way of remaining steadfast while continuing to trust that justice belongs ultimately to Allah.
The life of the Prophet ﷺ contains many examples of this kind of patience. In Makkah, the early Muslims endured persecution for years before they were allowed to defend themselves. Some of the companions were tortured, some were forced to leave their homes, and some were killed because of their faith. The Prophet ﷺ did not teach them despair. He reminded them that hardship was part of the path that believers sometimes walk before relief arrives.
The companions also learned that sabr does not remove grief. When the Prophet ﷺ lost his son Ibrahim, he wept openly. He explained that the heart feels sorrow and the eyes shed tears, but the believer speaks only what is pleasing to Allah. This moment shows that patience does not mean the absence of pain. It means holding on to faith even when the heart feels heavy.
When Muslims today speak about patience, they often do so while living in relative security. It is easy to repeat the word when life remains stable. It is far more difficult when homes are destroyed, families are separated, and the future becomes uncertain. In such moments sabr becomes something real rather than something theoretical.
For this reason the patience shown by people who endure severe hardship carries a lesson for the rest of the ummah. It reminds Muslims that patience is not simply a virtue discussed in sermons. It is a quality that reveals itself when faith is tested in the most difficult circumstances. Through such moments the meaning of sabr becomes visible again.
– Ever your sister of the ummah you dignify.
