Weekly Pearls of Wisdom: Elizabeth George Hanson

Tears are prayers too. They travel to Allah when we can’t speak.

Muslim Quotes

Dear Readers,

Please find below a brilliant article in the memory of Elizabeth George Hanson by Shaykh Hamza Yusuf. Her passing away has indeed left a gap in many people’s lives. This was sent to me by S. Rehman, a Councillor and therapist in Surrey. There are so many hidden words of wisdom in this post. We pray for Elizabeth George Hanson and her family, may God in His mercy bless her and lend her grace.  These are the precious gems of our society who lead by goodness and encourage others to do the same. This week we celebrate her life and her memory.

In Loving Memory On the Passing of My Mother, Elizabeth George Hanson

HAMZA YUSUF·WEDNESDAY, 10 AUGUST 2016

My mother, Elizabeth Anne George Hanson, died last night with her hand in mine, surrounded by her children. She was ninety-five years old; when she was born, there was an Ottoman Caliph ruling much of the Muslim world. She lived through the Great Depression, World War II, the Vietnam War, and the Civil Rights Movement, which she was actively involved in long before many others joined. My mother spent her life serving others. She never complained and was the most ethical person I have ever known. She hated bigotry, prejudice, and any form of discrimination. She spent her life fighting against injustice. Some of my earliest memories involve civil rights marches, on which she always brought along her children. She marched with Dr. King and Cesar Chavez, and even in her late eighties, she marched in San Francisco against the war in Iraq. All her life, she volunteered in various organizations and served for years on the Homeless Committee in Marin County. Even into her eighties, she volunteered teaching Mexican immigrants and farm workers how to speak, read, and write English, a language she loved and spoke beautifully.

Shaykh Hamza with his mother in Turkey in July 2011.

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life.

Shaykh Hamza, his mother, and Shaykh Abdullah Alkadi

My mother had extraordinary scruples and was never known to lie or disparage anyone. In our entire lives, I never remember my mother ever raising her voice to her children. She gave no cause to any of her children to ever be angry with her, even though the opposite, unfortunately, was not always true. She loved and respected all faiths and taught her children to do the same. While baptized a Greek Orthodox due to her father’s heritage, she was raised a devout Catholic. She had a long interest in Sufism and loved the poet Rumi long before he was popular in the West. She was a member of a Buddhist Songhai for much of her later years and practiced Tibetan Buddhism. In 2010, in Fez, Morocco, she took the Shahadah with Sidi Ismail Filali Baba. Yet many years ago, just after I had first embraced Islam, I was telling her about the faith when she said to me, “I knew the Prophet Muhammad was a prophet long before you were born, dear.” She had also taken me to a mosque when I was twelve to pray the Friday prayer in order to expose me to an important world religion. She lived in my home for the last two years of her life and always prayed with us, even going into prostration despite the difficulty. My wife, Liliana, took incredible care of her with utter selflessness, and said to me on more than one occasion, “I want to be like your mother when I grow up.” One story sums my mother up perfectly: Sharifa Uzma Husaini was with her in Fez, Morocco in the market. A shopkeeper they were buying something from in one of the souks in the Old Medina said to her, “You must hold your purse tight; we have a lot of thieves here.” To this, she replied, “I am a Sufi! If someone steals my purse, he must need it more than I do.” Those were not mere words to her but how she lived her life. Those who knew my mother will know I am not exaggerating. I hope to write a longer tribute to her amazing life and her many virtuous deeds, but for now, I request prayers for her soul.

Shaykh Hamza, his mother, and Sidi Ismail Filali Baba in Morocco, 2010