In the golden dust of Basra, under a sky painted in hues of dawn, a renowned scholar walked with purpose through narrow streets, his robes whispering with pride and knowledge. He came to visit Rabe‘a al-Adawiyya (d. 804)— the woman whose name echoed in the hearts of the devout, known for her burning love for the Divine.
He entered her humble abode, where the scent of sandalwood hung in the air, and light filtered through a worn curtain, casting gentle shadows on Rabe‘a’s frail form lying on a simple cot. Though her body was weak, her spirit shone with fierce serenity.
Sitting beside her, the scholar began to speak, his words sharp with contempt for the world. He ranted at length about its fleeting pleasures and temptations, expecting praise for his renunciation.
But Rabe‘a, with eyes that held the stillness of desert nights, looked at him and said calmly:
“You must love the world greatly… otherwise, why speak of it so often? For as the proverb says — Whoever loves a thing, remembers it frequently.”
Her words, soft but piercing, struck the scholar like lightning. His pride cracked — but still, he pressed on, hoping to expose her ignorance.
“Do you love God?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“With all my soul,” she replied.
“Then surely you must hate Satan?”
But Rabe‘a smiled, her voice a whisper of divine clarity:
“My love for the All-Merciful has filled my heart so completely, there is no room left for hatred — not even for Satan.”
The scholar sat in stunned silence. He had come to lecture her on religion… but left having tasted something deeper — the fire of pure, unconditional love.
