Gbosheye

In the vast expanse of Islamic scholarship, where the footprints of giants mark the sands of time, one name gleams with unshakable brilliance, Abu Ishaaq Al-Huwayniy. A man whose knowledge flowed like the ever-gushing spring, quenching the thirst of those who sought truth in the reservoirs of hadith. He was not merely a scholar; he was a fortress of preservation, a lighthouse guiding the bewildered, and a steadfast mountain upon which the storms of tribulation beat, yet found no crack nor crevice.   His speech carried the precision of a muhaddith, the wisdom of a faqeeh, and the sincerity of a servant who knew his Rabb. Like the ink of Al-Bukhari, his legacy is imprinted on the hearts of those who revere the Sunnah. He lived the words of the Prophet ﷺ:   "نضر الله امرأ سمع مقالتي فوعاها وحفظها وبلغها"   "May Allah brighten the face of the one who hears my words, understands them, memorizes them, and conveys them." (Tirmidhi)   ...

The tides of public condemnation have been relentless upon Abdulrahman, the young man whose hands were stained with the gruesome murder of Hafsah in Ilorin. For weeks, he has been the subject of scorn, abandoned by those who once stood beside him, rejected by his own circle, and cursed by voices that once resonated with his own beliefs. His crime is vile, despicable, and demands justice. No sane person would excuse it. But as this sacred month of Ramadan approached, the month of mercy, the month of Rahmah, I began to ponder, that we must ask ourselves: what is the intent of Allah in exposing a criminal? Is it for utter destruction? Is it for permanent rejection? Is there no pathway back to redemption? Yes, the wheels of justice must turn. Yes, Abdulrahman may be condemned to execution in line with the law of Qisas. But before that inevitable fate, should we not offer him the one thing that Islam extends even to the gravest of sinners, the door of Tawbah? We have all seen th...