Assalamu’alaykum.

I’ve been reflecting deeply on the state of our Ummah, especially as we watch the tragedies unfold in Palestine. There is a looming thought that keeps circling back: If we truly wanted to make a difference as a united Ummah, could we not have done more by now? Is it really enough for us to simply share thoughts and prayers, post our outrage online, boycott, donate, or be vocal in our social justice efforts? How much are we really doing?

It’s hard to ignore the feeling of complicity, no matter how much we may try to deny it. We can paint our profiles with hashtags and slogans, but does that truly fulfill the urgency of the situation? Does the mere act of sharing a post or making a donation take away the reality of the genocide unfolding in Gaza? Are we doing enough?

This sentiment isn’t new. The struggle of Palestine is not something that began on October 7th, 2023—it has been going on for nearly 80 years. The Nakba (the catastrophe) in 1948 marked the beginning of the forced displacement of Palestinian Arabs, when over 700,000 Palestinians were expelled from their homeland, and their villages were destroyed to make way for the state of Israel. For decades, they have endured hardship, displacement, violence, and injustice. Yet despite all the pain and struggle, the world largely remains indifferent, and those who are meant to stand with them have failed in taking meaningful action.

As Muslims, we must pause and ask ourselves why this has gone on for so long. How can we live in a world where our brothers and sisters in Palestine are facing a genocide right before our eyes, and the leaders who claim to represent us have largely remained silent or powerless to act?

And I wonder: What did we expect from the so-called “Arab Leaders” or Muslim leaders in general? Why did we think they would stand up for Palestine when, for decades, the plight of our brothers and sisters there has been met with passivity or worse, complicity?

In our hearts, we know this fight didn’t start on October 7th, 2023. This struggle for a free Palestine began long before, and it has been a defining issue for Muslims for generations. It is a deep wound on the body of the Ummah, a painful reminder of the decline of the unity and strength that once marked our civilization.

The Golden Age of Islam—that period of intellectual, political, and military might under the Caliphates—reminds us that Muslims once stood together as one. From Spain to India, the Ummah was united in vision and action, forging advancements in science, culture, and governance. This golden era was not just about political power—it was about a shared sense of duty to uphold justice, to protect the oppressed, and to defend the rights of the weak. The Caliphates were more than rulers; they were stewards of justice and peace.

We have fallen so far from those days. As a community, we have lost that sense of unity, of collective responsibility. And as we stand here today, witnessing what is nothing short of a genocide unfolding in Gaza, we cannot ignore the uncomfortable truth that we have, in many ways, failed to act. We are complicit in this silence, as our words and prayers fail to materialize into meaningful action.

But is it really too late? Hasbuna Allah wa ni’mal wakeel—Allah is Sufficient for us, and He is the best disposer of affairs. There is always hope, and as we remember the noble warriors of our past, we must also remember that the Ummah’s strength lies in our collective effort. We may not have the political power that once defined the Caliphates, but we have each other. And that is where the potential for change lies.

In the first month of the events unfolding in Gaza, a sense of fear settled in my heart. It is the kind of fear that gnaws at you when you realize how little you have done to stand against oppression. As Muslims, we remind ourselves daily: From Allah, for Allah, to Allah… We’re not afraid. But in the face of such atrocities, should we not be afraid? If we are not afraid, then what is left for us to feel?

The words of the Quran and the Sunnah teach us that we have a duty to stand against oppression, to help the oppressed, to speak up for justice. We have been warned against turning away from those who are suffering. How do we reconcile our daily prayers, our fasting, and our charity with the larger, urgent calls for help from our brothers and sisters in Palestine?

Perhaps the question is not whether we should be afraid, but whether we are willing to face our own complacency. How do we account for our inaction? Are we truly fulfilling our duty to the Ummah when we are overwhelmed with feelings of helplessness?

I know I’m not the only one grappling with this sense of guilt and fear. I know there are countless others who feel the same void, that emptiness that comes from knowing that while our hearts ache for Palestine, we are not taking enough action to change the course of their suffering. We must ask ourselves: What is it going to take for us to stand as one Ummah and demand justice?

For me, this journey to find peace in my heart amidst the chaos is ongoing. I look back to the times when the Ummah was strong, united, and unshaken in their commitment to truth and justice. That era is a reminder of what is possible when we come together—not just in words, but in actions. As we reflect on the Golden Age of Islam, let us remember the example of the righteous leaders and scholars who were not afraid to speak out, to challenge the status quo, and to defend the oppressed, no matter the cost.

Let us take inspiration from those who came before us, who fought for what was right with courage and faith. Let us not let the flame of that unity die out. For the sake of our Ummah, for the sake of a free Palestine, let us rise up in whatever way we can, with whatever resources we have, and with hearts full of conviction.

There is still time. We can still make a difference. For Palestine, for the Ummah, for justice. May Allah grant us the strength to do what is right and the courage to act. Ameen.