Prophet Muhhammad Sallallahu Alaihi owasallam

When the news of the Prophet's (peace be upon him) death spread, it was as though a thick darkness descended upon Medina. No one could speak; some began to behave like madmen. A great crowd had gathered to hear of the Prophet’s illness. When someone announced his passing, the brave Umar drew his sword and declared, “Whoever says the Prophet has died, I will sever his head!”

But the wise Abu Bakr remained at the Prophet’s deathbed until the very end. He then stood among the people with solemn composure and said, “Let those who worshipped the Prophet know that he has passed away. But those who worship Allah should know that Allah is Ever-living, Eternal.” Then he recited Allah’s clear words: “Muhammad is no more than a Messenger. Many messengers have passed away before him. If he dies or is slain, will you then turn back on your heels?” Everything in this universe, in the vastness of the heavens, is the creation of Allah, and to Him is the return of all.

Abu Bakr’s grave words brought clarity to the bewildered crowd. Umar’s strength gave way, and he collapsed to the ground. The Prophet’s words echoed in his mind: “I am but a human being like you.” The verse from the Qur’an resonated within him: “To Muhammad is destined death, as it is to all others.” And from his heart emerged the timeless testimony of every Muslim: “Muhammad is the servant and messenger of Allah.”

At the moment of overwhelming grief and potential loss of reason, Abu Bakr (may Allah be pleased with him) set a clear boundary of reverence. He reminded the people: the Prophet was a Messenger, but he was also a man—a human being made of flesh and blood, subject to sorrow, pain, life, and death. The aged Abu Bakr Siddiq brought the grieving Muslims back to their senses with this profound realization.

The Prophet had drawn people close primarily through his human virtues. Though born into the noblest lineage of Mecca, he never allowed lineage pride to cloud his conscious mind, even for a moment.

Born into hardship, he entered this world burdened by sorrow. This pain, blended with his physical beauty and the sweetness of his character, made him beloved to all. From childhood, he was Al-Amin—the trustworthy, soft-spoken, and truthful. His extraordinary intelligence, wisdom, judgment, and strong physique amazed all who met him. These very qualities attracted Lady Khadija to him.

Indeed, the Prophet was a man of unparalleled beauty. During his migration from Mecca to Medina, he sought shelter in the humble home of a pious couple. The husband, Abu Ma‘bad, was away grazing sheep, and the wife, Umm Ma‘bad, quenched the Prophet’s thirst with goat’s milk. When her husband returned, she described the noble guest: a graceful, handsome man with long, wavy hair, captivating eyes lined as if with kohl, a noble neck, and deep, soulful eyes. His silent presence was dignified, and his speech flowed like honey. His nature was gentle and humble. He was neither too tall nor too short, neither frail nor heavyset. His appearance radiated strength and charm. Truly, he possessed all the beauty needed to captivate the human heart.

His beauty was complete, but his character was even sweeter, perfected through his deep devotion to truth. Whoever came close to him felt as though they belonged to him. With unwavering faith, he became invincible—no matter how cruel the enemy’s attacks, his heart remained like a fortress of iron. Yet, though firm as a mountain in truth, he was as soft as a flower in compassion.

He endured torture at the hands of enemies; his noble garments were often stained with his blood from their brutal strikes. Yet, he loved the sinners, never uttering a word of curse against them. On the paths of Mecca, he was pelted with stones, ridiculed, and mocked; yet, from his heart rose a single prayer: “O Lord, grant them understanding, forgive them.” During his mission in Ta’if, he was severely tested. Hit with stones, he stumbled in exhaustion, but even then, it was his enemies who helped him rise—only to stone him again with greater force. His garments soaked in blood, his consciousness blurred by the shadow of death, yet he did not utter a single word of complaint.

He had been tempted with wealth, power, and kingship, but rejected all in favor of truth. Even when insulted, ignored, and denied, not a trace of anger or hatred passed his lips. When urged to curse his oppressors, he said, “No, never. I have not been sent to curse, but to carry the message of Islam.” Even those who opposed him, he saw as future believers or the ancestors of future Muslims.

We have seen how the Quraysh of Mecca committed unbearable atrocities against him after he began his prophethood. When their torment became intolerable and it became clear they would not accept the truth, the Prophet migrated to Medina. On the way, assassins were sent to kill him, tempted by promises of great reward. In the battles of Badr, Uhud, and Khandaq, the Meccans and their allies tried to wipe out Islam and every trace of the Muslims. When false news of the Prophet’s death spread during the Battle of Khaybar, they rejoiced. Even during the Treaty of Hudaybiyyah, they tried to exploit the Prophet’s desire for peace, and later betrayed that trust.

Yet, when the Prophet finally entered Mecca in victory, they still sought to provoke battle. Even then, sitting as a conqueror, holding the scales of justice, he said to his former enemies, “O my brothers, I hold no blame against you today. You are all free.” It was this boundless mercy that demonstrated his profound humanity.

Not only did he show love and compassion, he also had a profound sense of humility. Even in the height of his glory, that feeling of smallness before God never left him. When he sat by Mount Safa, teaching truth-seekers after the conquest of Mecca, a man came to him trembling. The Prophet smiled and said, “Why do you fear? There is nothing to be afraid of. I am not a king, not a ruler, not a master of men. I am the son of a woman who used to eat dried meat.”

This sense of humility amidst such grandeur kept his character eternally beautiful and pure. Though man is fallible and so was he, his unwavering honesty and clarity allowed him to openly acknowledge even the slightest fault.

Once, while preaching truth to the elite of Mecca, a blind man interrupted him mid-speech, possibly having missed a few words. A faint sign of irritation appeared on the Prophet’s face, and his brow creased slightly. This was hardly a major lapse—after all, it is natural to feel disturbed during an interruption. Moreover, the Prophet was known to deeply love and care for the poor and weak. No one thought he despised the blind man or disrespected him. Still, a verse from the Qur’an pointed out this minute error, and the Prophet publicly shared it without hesitation or shame.

This deep awareness of human limitation, the pure sense of humility, also illuminated his life of chosen poverty. Despite being surrounded by strangers and skeptics, he received immense love, loyalty, and respect. Hundreds, even thousands, of Muslims longed to offer him every comfort, yet he chose to live as one among them—like a brother, a companion, a leader striving alongside his people.

He bore the weight of truth under great suffering and persecution, consoled himself in the name of God amid grief and hardship, and though a king in the hearts of men, he wore the crown of poverty by choice. There was not always food in his home, sometimes not even oil to light a lamp at night. In such a state of utter simplicity and sacrifice, the great Prophet departed for the land beyond life.

As her beloved husband departed, Ayesha wept in inconsolable grief. The one who spent sleepless nights for the welfare of humanity, who gave away everything he had for truth, who endured enemy assaults with a smile—he was gone. The Prophet of Mercy, who prayed for his enemies even as they broke his teeth and bloodied his forehead, was gone. The one who often went without two full meals a day, who lived in simplicity, whose whole life was a manifestation of sacrifice and compassion—he was no more.

Her lament was the sorrow of all humanity, of the entire world.

The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) was not only a seeker of truth and a man of divine mission. In his dealings with people, he was one of the most extraordinary characters in history. Sacrifice, love, kindness, courtesy, forgiveness, endurance, courage, generosity, self-confidence, insight, and fairness—such a constellation of virtues is rare on this earth.

And so, though he was one of us, he remains rare. Though dearly our own, he is forever a model to follow, a light to revere.