Yasin 1-20 — Surah
That was when a man appeared from the farthest edge of the city—a winding lane of tanneries and beggars’ alcoves. His name was Habib. He was a weaver by trade, but years ago, a strange illness had bent his spine and left him with a limp. The healthy, beautiful people of Antakya had always ignored him. He was “the cripple from the back alley.”
Days passed. The three messengers were met with the same refrain: “You are only men like us. The Most Gracious would not send a man—He would send an army of angels!”
Habib did not run. He looked toward the three messengers, who nodded with tears in their eyes. As the first stones struck his shoulders, he whispered, “O my people… if only you knew… how my Lord has forgiven me…” surah yasin 1-20
Sadiq was the first to speak in the main square. “O people, carve no gods from stone. The One who sends down rain and splits the seed is your only Lord.”
As for the idols, they stood in their temple, hollow and silent, waiting for the day when the city would crumble and the only voice left would be the echo of a crippled weaver saying: “Why should I not worship the One who created me?” That was when a man appeared from the
Habib sighed. “If only my people knew what my Lord has given me.”
And the messengers? They walked out of Antakya at dawn. Not all hearts had been sealed. A handful—a tanner, a slave girl, a former soldier—slipped out behind them, following the invisible road to the Merciful. The healthy, beautiful people of Antakya had always
Into this city stepped three men. They were not warriors or kings. They were messengers, sent by the All-Merciful. Their names were Sadiq, Ameen, and Hasan.
He limped into the main square, his sandals scraping the cobblestones. The crowd parted for a moment, then laughed. “Look! The crooked one comes to preach to us .”
Habib raised a trembling hand. “O my people! Follow the messengers. Follow those who ask no wage and are rightly guided. Why should I not worship the One who brought me into being? To Him is your return.”
