The Prophet ﷺ said,
الوالد أوسط أبواب الجنة فإن شئت فأضع ذلك الباب أو احفظه
The father is the middle (best) of the gates of Paradise, so if you wish, neglect that gate or protect it.” [1]
al-Mubārakfūrī (may Allah have mercy upon him) said,
قَالَ الْقَاضِي: أَيْ: خَيْرُ الْأَبْوَابِ وَأَعْلَاهَا. وَالْمَعْنَى: أَنَّ أَحْسَنَ مَا يُتَوَسَّلُ بِهِ إِلَى دُخُولِ الْجَنَّةِ، وَيُتَوَسَّلُ بِهِ إِلَى وُصُولِ دَرَجَتِهَا الْعَالِيَةِ، مُطَاوَعَةُ الْوَالِدِ، وَمُرَاعَاةُ جَانِبِهِ
al-Qādī said, i.e. it is the best and highest of all the gates. And the meaning is: the finest means by which a person can seek entry into Paradise and reach its highest ranks is obeying one’s father and carefully honouring his position and rights.” [2]
Yet in many modern societies, this central gate to Paradise, the father, has been pushed from the heart of the home to its margins.
He is reduced to “helper”, treated as a “back-up”, a “nice addition”, or even an optional guest in their own children’s lives. Across communities, this is how countless fathers describe their reality today. Many state the same thing: isolation under their own roof, no meaningful voice in decisions about wife or children, and a role shrunk to little more than a financial pipeline.
Then you have how fathers are portrayed on TV, film, and advertising: a long-running pattern on the incompetent, passive, childish, clumsy (or even selfish) father, a caricature that renders real fathers like strangers in the very homes they built.
You are your father’s sacrifice
What makes this more of a strain on the father’s heart is that he never forgets just how much of himself he had given away for that very child.
The Prophet ﷺ said,
إن الولد مبخلة مجبنة مجهلة محزنة
Indeed, a child is a cause of stinginess, cowardice, ignorance, and grief.” [3]
Consider these four traits that men acquire when they become fathers.
| Term | Meaning | How it appears in a father’s life |
|---|---|---|
| Mabkhalah | Cause for stinginess | A child makes a father hold back, not only from others, but also from himself. He’ll postpone comfort, delay charity, and deny himself joys he would never usually deny — so his children can have more. |
| Majbanah | Cause for cowardice | A father’s courage melts into fear the moment his child enters the world. He fears for your safety, your faith, your future, your marriage — every chapter of your life. That fear never lifts; it only ends when he does. |
| Majhalah | Cause for ignorance | Children can pull a father away from pursuits he once dreamed of — knowledge, travel, personal growth — simply because all his time, energy, and attention are poured into building a life for them. |
| Mahzanah | Cause of grief | The child becomes a source of sorrow, because love makes the heart fragile. Your illness, your worries, your mistakes — they sit on his chest heavier than they ever sit on yours. |
He greeted your birth with tears of joy. He was unaware, however, that in that very instant, his entire DNA was being rewritten.
He now hesitates where he’d once be brave, holds back from giving where he’d once spend freely, puts aside learning he once pursued, and carries worries that he never imagined before you were born, all because of his love for you.
He did this without expecting anything in return, well perhaps only gratitude, appreciation, and some reassuring regard.
But what is gratitude to one’s father?
Honouring your father is not just a kiss on his forehead or hand, a bit of money slipped into his pocket, or a gift that makes him smile.
Similarly, true birr (dutifulness) is not a tribute to a father in the past, but something that is lived daily, that you breathe into everything you do for him today.
If you give him money, you let it be known to him that you would never have earned it were it not for Allah, then him. If you protect him from harm, you declare to him how many times he shielded you from harm far greater than this. If you bring him any good, you admit to him that it is nothing but a hopeless attempt to repay a fraction of the good that he poured into your life.
In fact, your entire attitude should imply:
My dear father, my pride and joy, whatever I do for you today is not a favour from me to you. It is me trying, in my own small and clumsy way, to say: you have done more than what was due from you, and what remains now is what is due to you.
After all, it is as our Lord who says:
هَلْ جَزَاءُ الإِحْسَانِ إِلَّا الإِحْسَانُ
Is there any reward for excellence except excellence in return?” [4]
Ponder over your father and realise what stands before you; those grey hairs on his head and beard, the arch in his back, the lines on his face, the illnesses he quietly endures, all of them are the receipts of love for the story of comfort that you now live in.
Lift the one who lifted you
The father is that quiet candle that burns itself away to light life for you, your mother, your siblings, and your home.
When his children are small, he carries them in his arms; when they grow, he carries them in his thoughts — their fees, their futures, their food, their worries. When they get to university, he smiles as if a burden has been lifted, secretly hoping that life will now finally become slightly lighter. But for many fathers, the weight only grows.
It is still the father who shoulders most of the responsibility: it is usually the father who remembers the deadlines, renews the contracts, books the MOT, pays the council tax, and makes sure there is fuel in the car and food in the fridge. He is the one who stands at the doorstep in the rain dragging the bins out because collection is tomorrow and no one else thought of it. He notices the flickering bulb and changes it because no one else will bother. He keeps an eye on repairs, paperwork, and problems, so the house feels “normal” for everyone else.
How many times have we seen a father pushing a heavy shopping trolley through the cold and rain, his clothes damp, his hands numb, while his family waits in warmth, unaware of the effort that stocked their kitchen? And yet, some of those very children speak to their fathers with irritation, treat them as if they were employees on call: expected to pay, expected to drive, expected to fix, and when something goes wrong, expected to take the blame.
He is also the one who pushes for family visits and gatherings, picking up the phone, arranging the timings, driving everyone there and back, because he knows that if he doesn’t, those ties will fade and the home will become a lonely place.
Behind so many stable homes is a man who had quietly decided that his comfort is negotiable, but yours is not. That moment — when a son or daughter pauses and realises this, steps forward to relieve, to serve, to alleviate — is one of the greatest forms of birr a father can experience in this life.
Mother vs. Father
Your commitment to your mother, as praiseworthy as it is, will never excuse, justify, or make up for your neglect of your father.
If your mother carried you in her womb for nine months, your father has carried you, your siblings, and mother for years on end. If your mother brought you into this world, then your father is the one who spends his life bringing the world to you. If your mother rushes to catch you when you fall, your father is the one who teaches you how to stand back up and not fall again.
This is why, in Islamic law, the yatīm (orphan) is not the child who loses his mother before adulthood, but the one who loses his father. A reality you will truly grasp either when you lose him, or when you yourself become a father and suddenly see, in your own heart, what once lived in his.
The Prophet ﷺ said,
رِضَا الرَّبِّ فِي رِضَا الْوَالِدِ، وَسَخَطُ الرب في سخط الوالد
The pleasure of the Lord lies in the pleasure of the father, and the anger of the Lord lies in the anger of the father.” [5]
What if my father has been harsh to me?
My brother, my sister, my son, my daughter, your father remains your father!
Even if he is harsh in his nature, even if he has wronged you at times, even if he has fallen short in his duties, he is still your father. Even if he separated from your mother, even if he married again, even if his choices disappointed you or broke your heart, none of that erases the fact that he is the man through whom Allah brought you into this world.
In this world, you can replace friends, walk away from a spouse and marry another, and can even have more children and start again. But there is only one man you will ever call “father”.
When he goes, that door to Paradise is closed forever. That is a bond that no imperfection can ever erase.
It is narrated* that a man came to the Prophet ﷺ and said,
يا رسول الله إن أبي أخذ مالي
O Messenger of Allah, my father has taken my wealth.”
So the Prophet ﷺ said,
اذهب فائتني بأبيك
Go and bring your father to me.”
Meanwhile, Jibrīl (ʿalayhi al-Salām) descended upon the Prophet ﷺ and said,
إن الله عز وجل يقرئك السلام ويقول لك : إذا جاءك الشيخ فسله عن شيء قاله في نفسه ما سمعته أذناه
Allah, Mighty and Majestic, sends you His Salām and says to you:
‘When the old man comes to you, ask him about something he said to himself, which his ears did not hear.’”
When the old man arrived, the Prophet ﷺ said to him,
ما بال ابنك يشكوك تريد أن تأخذ ماله ؟
Why is your son complaining about you, saying you want to take his wealth?”
He replied,
سله يا رسول الله هل أنفقه إلا على إحدى عماته أو خالاته أو على نفسي ؟
Ask him, O Messenger of Allah, whether I have spent it on anyone other than one of his paternal or maternal aunts, or on myself.”
The Prophet ﷺ said,
إيه دعنا من هذا ، أخبرني عن شيء قلته في نفسك ما سمعته أذناك
Enough of this; leave that aside. Tell me about something you said to yourself, which your ears did not hear.”
The old man replied,
والله يا رسول الله ما يزال الله يزيدنا بك يقينا ، فقد قلت في نفسي شيئا ما سمعته أذناي
By Allah, O Messenger of Allah, Allah does not cease to increase us in certainty through you. I did indeed say something to myself which my ears did not hear.”
He ﷺ said,
Say it, and I will listen.”
He replied (in poetry):
غَذوَتُكَ مولوداً وَعُلتُكَ يافِعاً ** تُعِلُّ بِما أدنيَ عَلَيكَ وَتَنهلُ
“I nurtured you as a newborn and raised you as a youth;
you sipped from what I earned for you and drank your fill from it.إِذا لَيلَةٌ نابَتكَ بِالشَكو لَم ** أَبِت لِشَكواكَ إِلّا ساهِراً أَتَمَلمَلُ
If a night ever came upon you in sickness, I would not sleep;
for your illness I stayed awake, restless and turning.كَأَني أَنا المَطروقُ دونَكَ بِالَذي ** طُرِقتَ بِهِ دوني فَعَينايَ تَهمُلُ
It was as though I were the one struck by what struck you, not you,
and my eyes would overflow with tears.تَخافُ الرَدى نَفسي عَلَيكَ وَإِنَني ** لَأَعلَمُ أَنَ المَوتَ حَتمٌ مُؤَجَّلُ
My soul feared ruin for you, even though it knows
that death has a fixed, appointed time.فَلَمّا بَلَغت السِّنَ وَالغايَةَ الَّتي ** إِليها مَدى ما كُنتُ فيكَ أُؤَمِلُ
Then, when you reached the age and the station
to which, all along, my hopes for you had looked,جَعَلتَ جَزائي غِلظَةً وَفَظاظَةً ** كَأَنَكَ أَنتَ المُنعِمُ المُتَفَضِلُ
you made my recompense harshness and roughness,
as though you were the benefactor, the one bestowing favour.فَلَيتَكَ إِذ لَم تَرعَ حَقَّ أُبوَتي ** فَعَلتَ كَما الجارُ المُجاورُ يَفعَلُ
If only—since you did not observe the right of my fatherhood —
you had at least treated me as a neighbour treats his neighbour.”
At that point, the Prophet ﷺ took hold of the son by the front of his garment and said,
أنت ومالك لأبيك
You and your wealth belong to your father.” [6]
What must I do now?
Firstly, approach him with a sincere apology. Something like, “Help me, father, let us start again”. Go to him yourself, don’t wait for him to come to you, nor must you wait for the “right moment” (as it does not exist until you create it).
Secondly, re-centre your life around him. This could mean visiting or calling him daily. Supporting him financially without him asking. Including him in major decisions. Taking him to appointments, to the masjid, or to see relatives. Protecting his honour in front of others. Making him feel respected, needed, and valued. Build your routines around him.
Thirdly, one of the greatest gifts you can ever give your father is your own righteousness. For him to see you — whether in his lifetime or after his death — as a child who prays, fears Allah, guards their tongue, treats people with honour, and feels responsible for the Ummah, is more precious to him than any house you could buy him or any sum of money you could leave behind. Your piety is his ongoing happiness in this world and his ongoing charity in the next.
But, if your father is no longer with us, hope is not lost.
Mālik ibn Rabīʿah (radiy Allāhu ‘anhu) said,
بَيْنَا نَحْنُ جُلُوسٌ عِنْدَ رَسُول الله – صلى الله عليه وسلم – إذ جَاءهُ رَجُلٌ مِنْ بَنِي سَلَمَةَ ،فَقَالَ : يَا رسولَ اللهِ ، هَلْ بَقِيَ مِنْ برِّ أَبَوَيَّ شَيء أبرُّهُما بِهِ بَعْدَ مَوتِهمَا ؟ فَقَالَ : نَعَمْ ، الصَّلاةُ عَلَيْهِمَا ، والاسْتغْفَارُ لَهُمَا ، وَإنْفَاذُ عَهْدِهِمَا مِنْ بَعْدِهِما ، وَصِلَةُ الرَّحِمِ الَّتي لا تُوصَلُ إلاَّ بِهِمَا ، وَإكرامُ صَدِيقهمَا
While we were sitting with the Messenger of Allah ﷺ, a man from the tribe of Banu Salamah came and said:
‘O Messenger of Allah, is there anything left of dutifulness to my parents that I can do for them after their death?’
He ﷺ replied,
‘Yes: praying for them, asking forgiveness for them, fulfilling the pledges they made after they have gone, maintaining the ties of family that are only connected through them, and honouring their close friends.” [7]
In fact, the Prophet ﷺ said,
إن أبر البر أن يصل الرجل ودَّ أبيه
The highest form of dutifulness (to parents) is for a person to maintain ties with those whom his father loved.” [8] [9]
Source: Islam21c
Notes
[1] al-Tirmidhi, on the authority of Abu al-Dardaa
[2] Tuḥfat al-Aḥwadhī
[3] al-Tabarai, al-Mu’jam al-Kabeer
[4] al-Qur’an 55:60
[5] al-Tirmidhi, on the authority of ‘Abdullah Ibn ‘Amr
*Although the chain of transmission for this narration has been critiqued, the final sentence has been authenticated by many scholars (was number 6 before)
[6] al-Tabarani, al-Awsat, on the authority of Jabir Ibn ‘Abdillah
[7] Ahmad
[8] Muslim, on the authority of Ibn ‘Umar
[9] Adapted from a sermon delivered by Sh. Ahmed Ali (Wales)
