Prophetic Manners and Refinement

Last year I came across a recipe for Louisiana-style gumbo that sounded absolutely delicious. I'm not much of a cook, but the author of this recipe wrote about gumbo with a passion and depth of knowledge that was inspiring. "If I can just follow his recipe, I'll make something that's at least pretty good," I thought. The key to great gumbo is the roux, a mixture of flour and fat (butter in my case) that provides the rich, dark base of the dish. But it's easy to burn roux and end up with something resembling wet ashes instead of the thick, chocolatey paste you need. I learned this the hard way by burning my roux twice. Both times I followed the recipe--stir on low heat for an hour--and both times I came up short. I read and reread my recipe a dozen times. I checked other recipes to see if mine was missing something. But I had the right instructions. The problem, I eventually realized, was myself. I wasn't treating my roux properly. It needs constant attention and care. So on my third attempt I turned the heat as low as possible, stirred constantly, and watched as it bubbled and turned from a floury white to a deep brown. Finally, I ended up with something that looked and smelled beautiful. And it led to some pretty delicious gumbo.

Many of us live our lives in the same way that I tried to make my gumbo: we follow the instructions and expect results. We do everything right on paper. But still we fall short, especially in our relationships, because of our own haste or roughness. It's easy to gather the right ingredients and follow the rules. We can visit our parents, pray on time, or cook a meal for our family. However, it's much more difficult to truly give something of ourselves as we do these things. Can we bring joy to our parents when we visit? Are we present with God as we pray? Do our families feel nourished and loved when we feed them? Going this extra mile requires presence, care, and genuine generosity. These things are the essence of Prophetic adab, or manners and refinement.

Adab is a word we often translate as "manners" or "etiquette." However, it's much more than yet another set of instructions for us to follow in life. Yes, we have specific etiquettes around greeting others, drinking water, or giving charity. Yet these are simply expressions of presence, care, and generosity with which our beloved Prophet ﷺ lived. True Prophetic adab is what spills out of our hearts spontaneously into our relationships, worship, and mundane tasks, when we act from a place of gratitude to God. It is for this reason that I like to translate adab as "refinement" because it transforms the quality of our knowledge and actions into something that is truly beneficial. The same ingredients and recipe can produce a dish that is burned or a dish that is subtle and delicious. It all depends on the skill and care of the chef.

Prophetic adab is not something you see emphasized in many classes on Islam. We tend to focus on knowledge--especially for newcomers to the religion. I must admit that even my recent article, The Path of Knowledge, made no mention of adab. Yet if we want to learn what this religion is really about, adab has to come first. Knowledge must produce action, but action proceeds from the heart.

There's a beautiful story that illustrates this point. When Imam Malik, founder of the Maliki school of law, first began his studies as a young boy, his mother sent him to the great scholar, Shaykh Rabi'ah. When he returned from his first day of lessons, she asked him what he had learned. He replied, "knowledge and adab." She said, "Go back. You haven't learned anything." After his second day, she asked him the same question. He replied, "knowledge and adab." Again she said, "Go back. You haven't learned anything." On the third day, she asked him again and he replied "Adab and knowledge." Finally she praised him saying, "Now you've begun to learn something. Take from Shaykh Rabi'ah's adab before you take from his knowledge." This was a tradition that Imam Malik continued throughout his life. His own student, Ibn Wahb, said "What I learned from the manners of Malik was better than his knowledge."

Knowledge without adab is like owning a nice tool set without the skills to use it. We must prioritize adab because it instructs us in how to use our knowledge correctly and, ultimately, to benefit from it. Most of us have experienced knowledge without adab many times in our prayers. We have all the correct ingredients: we pray on time, with renewed wudu, and with all the correct postures. However, we rush through it or we're distracted. We treat Allah like an acquaintance with whom we have half-hearted conversations rather than the Lord of the Worlds. But what happens on those occasions when our hearts are actually present? The call to prayer actually calls us to remember God; our wudu humbles us because we are washing away our sins; and the bowing a prostrating in the prayer actually makes us submissive to our Lord. In other words, our adab with God unlocks the benefit in our knowledge of how to pray. This is true in all that we do. Keep good adab with your parents and your obedience to them will unlock the wisdom they have to offer. Have good adab with the food you cook and you will unlock its delicious taste.

Learning Prophetic adab, as Imam Malik did, starts at home. It was his mother who first taught him to study the refined character of Shaykh Rabi'ah. There's an important lesson in this. Most of us will never experience a greater love and generosity than what we receive from our families. They are our first teachers of Prophetic adab, whether they are Muslims or not. For the Messenger of God ﷺ shows us the best of humanity; but human goodness is not limited to him. Then, when we are blessed with a good teacher of the religion, our own Shaykh Rabi'ah, we must do more than take notes on their lessons. Notice how they treat their students and the Book of Allah; how they mention the Prophet ﷺ, themselves, and others. If you are sitting with a good teacher, you will find a refined wisdom in all these things. The more we are attentive in our deeds, and the more generosity we display, the more, God willing, we can see that these teachers are everywhere. Even a pot of gumbo can teach you this refinement when you are truly present with it.