Restoring the Rights of Others

The fourth condition is in fact the second part of tawbah — the first three concern the tawbah a person owes toward Allah (swt) — and it is this: a person must reconcile with those he has wronged. This is ḥuqūq al-ʿibād, the rights of others. Where the wrong concerns the right of another Muslim, or of any other person, Muslim or not, that right must be returned to that person. If it is a property, the property must be returned; if it is something said wrongly, hurt feelings, a broken heart, a slander, a defamation that ruined someone's standing, forgiveness must be sought for it — because for tawbah to be complete, this second step must follow the first, which concerns Allah (swt) alone. A person may become a good Muslim, but he still has to go to those he has wronged and ask their forgiveness. Someone he has wronged may say: "Unless you kiss my feet three hundred times, I will not forgive you" — and it should be done, his dirty feet kissed three hundred times if that is what is demanded, because what awaits a person who wrongs others and comes to Allah (swt) without repentance is a billion times worse than kissing somebody's dirty feet. The point is exaggerated only to make it plain.

Some people, when they see that a person is genuinely sorry, will play hard to get, playing their own game — asking for money, or for service — and both should be given if that is what secures the restoration of their right. But their forgiveness — their ḥalāl-ness, their ḥaqq — has to be secured at all costs. If a person says, "I forgive you," is the matter finished? Yes: it works like a contract. "Sign here, please. You let go of all your rights? Just sign here." Signed — before attorneys, advocates, lawyers, before witnesses who see it signed. "Thank you, goodbye." A person who signs away a right this way cannot then come back and claim it again. "Oh, I changed my mind, I want to come back to my own home" does not work, any more than it would for someone who sold a house and was paid for it: "You sold your house to me yesterday, I paid you money — you want to come back to your house again? You can't, I'm living here now." The law will take care of such a person. Once a person says, in his own words, "I forgive you," the matter is finished, and his rights are gone.

But not everyone is so easy. There is the account of one who, walking into a mosque one afternoon after ʿaṣr some twenty-two years ago, found the wall on the qiblah side lined with clocks — clock after clock, ticking everywhere, breaking the concentration of anyone trying to pray. He took some of them away, the largest among them, and placed it where it could still be seen and used, thinking it a benefit to the mosque. That same afternoon, after ʿaṣr, an elderly man of the congregation, of his own father's age, stood up and declared: "I will never forgive whoever took that clock off the wall — on the Day of Judgement I will grab his collar and drag him into Jahannam." In shock, not knowing what else to do, he said at once: "Uncle, it was me. Please forgive me. I'm sorry, I didn't know it was yours — how was I supposed to know it was so precious to you, this clock?" "Ah — if it's you," came the reply, "I forgive you." Once the elderly man knew who had taken it, forgiveness came at once; had it been anyone else, he might not have been so quick. Some people, he observed, are that sensitive about their rights.