Tolerance, Compassion, Love = Islam

 

I just returned from a visit to Japan, and as I made my way home, a stream of thoughts began to flow.

From the moment we landed at Narita Airport, something felt different. It wasn’t just the scenery or the orderliness — it was something deeper. I felt humility and mindfulness in the air. People bowed not only as a gesture of politeness but with sincerity. Whether it was a hotel receptionist, a street vendor, or someone cleaning the floors — they expressed appreciation and respect, simply for being part of their day.

Everywhere I looked, I saw people taking pride in their work, no matter how small or large their task. They paid attention. They cared. At a hotel restaurant, my friend forgot to take a spoon for his soup. A staff member quietly noticed, followed him, and gently handed it to him. That level of attentiveness comes from a mindset many of us are still learning to practice.

Japan showed me what a functioning human society can look like when people lead with purpose, care, and discipline.

During a two-hour taxi ride to Mount Fuji, I spoke with our driver about many things — culture, tradition, and faith. He told me that while Japan has Buddhist, Christian, and Shinto roots, most young people today aren’t religious in a formal sense. And yet, they still live with ethics, respect, and self-awareness.

In Tokyo and Kyoto, I saw long work hours, intense daily routines — but no complaints. People pushed through quietly. From my hotel room on the 21st floor, I watched employees leave the office after 7:30 p.m., and others arrive early on a Saturday. Their drive wasn't rooted in fear or pride. It was simply a way of life — to do what’s right and give your best.

This experience reminded me of something that shaped my early years growing up in Pakistan. I remember hearing at a local mosque that because we are Muslims, we are automatically better than non-Muslims. That Paradise is guaranteed to us, no matter our actions — and that the rest of the world is doomed, even if they are good human beings.

This belief — repeated often — slowly shaped our collective mindset. We started to feel superior. Then, not only did we look down on non-Muslims, but we began turning on each other. Sunni against Shia, this sect against that. We started thinking our way of praying was right, and others were wrong. Arrogance crept in. Ego took over. And we lost something precious — our humility, our compassion, and our unity.

 This was never the message of Islam. And, It was never the mission of Prophet Muhammad ﷺ.

 The Prophet (Peace be upon him) did not go around telling people, “You’re wrong, and I’m right. You’re going to Hell if you don’t follow me.” No. He invited people through his character, his mercy, and his tolerance. He never made others feel small. Instead, he lifted them up with love.

Somehow, many of us grew up believing that simply saying the shahada — “There is no god but Allah, and Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah” — is a free ticket to Paradise, no matter what kind of life we live. But this mindset has caused great harm. It made us feel entitled instead of responsible. It replaced compassion with judgment. And in doing so, we lost our purpose.

The truth is: We are not here to judge anyone. We are not here to fix people or condemn them.

We are here to inspire, to encourage, and to be a source of mercy and hope — just like our Prophet ﷺ.

As a coach and a parent, I’ve realized something powerful: Our children will become who we are, not who we tell them to be. If we preach the Qur’an and hadith but don’t embody their values in daily life — it will not make a difference.

That’s why we must teach and live humility and mindfulness. Not arrogance. Not division. Not the belief that we are better just because of our religion.

Saying things like, “Christians are lost, Jews are cursed, and only Muslims will enter Paradise,” does not reflect the soul of Islam. In fact, it turns us into the very people we were warned not to become — self-righteous and blind to our own faults.

Instead, let us follow the real example of the Prophet ﷺ — who was a blessing for all of humanity, not just one group.

Let’s raise a generation that leads with humility, not superiority.

Let’s live our deen with open hearts, open minds, and gentle hands.

Because we are not here to prove others wrong — we are here to help them feel seen, heard, and loved.

And that, I believe, is the beginning of true dawah.