Summary
A read on the Mawlid debate, examining the distinction between loving and remembering the Messenger of Allah ﷺ and establishing a recurring religious observance. The blog discusses the role of Sunnah, seerah, intention, maslahah, and following the Prophet ﷺ, while encouraging Muslims to know, love and follow him throughout the year.
The Mawlid: If We Love the Messenger ﷺ, Let Him Teach Us How to Love Him
Every year, with the arrival of Rabi‘ al-Awwal, a familiar discussion returns to Muslim communities around the world. For some Muslims, the Mawlid is an expression of love for the Messenger of Allah ﷺ and gratitude to Allah for sending him. For others, assigning an annual religious observance to his birth is an innovation that has no basis in the practice of the Prophet ﷺ or the earliest generations.
Unfortunately, what should be a discussion of Sharia often becomes something else entirely. Labels replace evidence, and questions about religious practice become questions about identity. Those who question the Mawlid may be dismissed as “Wahhabis”, extremists, or people who do not love the Prophet ﷺ. Those who participate in it may be spoken about as though their love for him is false or as though they have deliberately chosen innovation over his Sunnah.
Neither approach does justice to the subject.
The real question is not whether we should love the Messenger of Allah ﷺ. Nor is it whether we should remember him, speak about him, study his life or teach his seerah. A Muslim should want all of these things. The deeper question is this: how should that love be expressed, and should our love for the Messenger ﷺ itself be guided by the Messenger ﷺ?
This distinction is important, because Islam does not ask us merely to claim love for Muhammad ﷺ; rather it teaches us what that love should produce.
Allah says:
﴾قُلْ إِن كُنتُمْ تُحِبُّونَ اللَّهَ فَاتَّبِعُونِي يُحْبِبْكُمُ اللَّهُ﴿
“Say: If you love Allah, then follow me; Allah will love you.”
Love leads to ittibā‘: following, and perhaps this is where a balanced discussion about the Mawlid should begin.
We Need More Seerah, Not Less
Before discussing what is problematic about establishing the Mawlid as a recurring religious occasion, something needs to be made absolutely clear. The answer to excess in one direction cannot be excess in the other.
There should never be a disconnect between Muslims and the life of their Prophet ﷺ.
If anything, many of our communities suffer from the opposite problem: we simply do not know him well enough. Our children may know the lives of athletes, celebrities and online personalities in extraordinary detail while knowing only fragments of the life of Muhammad ﷺ. Adults who have been Muslim their entire lives may struggle to describe the major stages of his mission, the people closest to him, the trials through which he passed, or the qualities that made his character so extraordinary, and this is undoubtedly problematic.
Our homes, schools and masajid need more seerah, not less. We should learn how the Prophet ﷺ worshipped, how he treated his wives, how he interacted with children, how he conducted business, how he led, how he responded to criticism, how he dealt with those who harmed him, how he forgave when he possessed the power to retaliate, and how he behaved when nobody was watching.
But even here, there is a purpose beyond accumulating information.
We do not study the seerah merely to know more facts about the Prophet ﷺ. We study his life because we want his life to change ours.
We learn how he treated his family so that our homes become better. We learn his honesty so that our business dealings become more honest. We learn his patience so that we respond differently when tested. We learn his worship so that our worship becomes closer to his. We learn his mercy so that something of that mercy appears in the way we deal with people.
Knowledge of the Messenger ﷺ should lead to love, and love should lead to following. That is ultimately the objective of all sacred knowledge.
Questioning the Mawlid, therefore, should never become an argument for remembering the Prophet ﷺ less. Properly understood, it should be an argument for knowing him better and following him more.
“But We Are Only Reading the Seerah”
One of the most common responses to concerns about the Mawlid is also one of the most understandable.
A person may say: “Forget the questionable things sometimes associated with Mawlid gatherings. We are not doing any of that. We are simply going to sit together, read the seerah, send salawat upon the Prophet ﷺ, perhaps share some food, and go home. How can reading the seerah possibly be wrong?”
The answer is simple: reading the seerah is not wrong.
If Muslims gather on an ordinary evening to study the life of Rasulullah ﷺ, that is something good. A masjid can establish a weekly seerah class. A family can choose a convenient evening each week to teach their children about him. A school can dedicate an entire term to studying his life. There is no problem with organising beneficial activities around times that are practically convenient.
The question changes, however, when the date itself becomes the religious reason for the gathering.
If we gather specifically because we regard this as the anniversary of the Prophet’s birth, and the gathering returns annually because of that association, the question is no longer simply, “Is reading seerah good?”
It becomes: what is the basis for giving this particular time a recurring religious significance?
This is an important distinction in worship...
An act can be good in itself without every particular time, number, form or recurring occasion attached to it thereby becoming legislated.
Prayer is good. Qur’an is good. Charity is good. Yet if someone decided that every year on the anniversary of a relative’s death he would perform a particular prayer, recite a particular surah and give a particular amount in charity because he regarded that anniversary as religiously significant, we would naturally ask where that specification came from.
We would not be questioning prayer, Qur’an or charity. We would be questioning the additional religious significance attached to the occasion.
And this is not merely a theoretical principle developed by later jurists. We find a striking illustration of it among the earliest generations.
“We Intended Nothing but Good”
Al-Darimi relates the famous report concerning ‘Abdullah ibn Mas‘ud رضي الله عنه.
Abu Musa al-Ash‘ari رضي الله عنه came to him after seeing something in the masjid that troubled him. People were sitting in circles waiting for the prayer. In each circle was a man directing them while they held stones in their hands. He would tell them to say Allahu Akbar one hundred times, and they would do so. Then La ilaha illa Allah one hundred times, and they would do so. Then SubhanAllah one hundred times, and they would do so.
Consider what was actually taking place...
They were sitting in the masjid. They were waiting for salah. They were making takbir, tahlil and tasbih. Nothing they were saying was evil. Indeed, these are among the most beloved words a Muslim can utter.
Abu Musa himself expressed the tension beautifully. He told Ibn Mas‘ud that he had seen something he disapproved of, yet added that, praise be to Allah, he had seen nothing except good.
That is remarkably close to the instinct many people have when the Mawlid is discussed today.
“What is actually wrong with what we are doing? We are reading seerah. We are making dhikr. We are sending salawat. We are feeding people. These are all good things.”
Ibn Mas‘ud went to the masjid and objected to the form of worship he found there. The people then said something that goes directly to the heart of our discussion:
والله يا أبا عبد الرحمن، ما أردنا إلا الخير
“By Allah, O Abu ‘Abd al-Rahman, we intended nothing but good.”
Ibn Mas‘ud replied:
وكم من مريد للخير لن يصيبه
“How many people intend good but do not attain it.”
This gives us an important principle...
Good intention matters enormously in Islam, but good intention alone does not determine whether a particular form of worship is correct. Nor does the goodness of the individual ingredients necessarily establish the legitimacy of the religious form into which they have been arranged.
Their mistake was not saying SubhanAllah. Ibn Mas‘ud was not opposed to dhikr. The question concerned the newly specified form in which that worship was being performed.
This report and the distinction we find within it is essential knowledge because it allows us to discuss the Mawlid without questioning people's hearts.
Someone may genuinely say, “I only want to express my love for Rasulullah ﷺ.”
We do not have to respond by questioning that love.
We can accept the intention and still ask whether the particular expression has been legislated.
The question is not simply, “Do you intend good?”
It is also, “Did the Messenger of Allah ﷺ teach us to express that good intention in this particular religious form?”
Ibn al-Hajj and the Same Question Centuries Later
Centuries later, the Maliki jurist Ibn al-Hajj addressed almost exactly the same difficulty when discussing the Mawlid.
He criticised various objectionable practices that had become associated with some celebrations, but his analysis did not stop there. He considered what happens if those questionable elements are removed and people occupy themselves instead with things that are good in themselves.
Among the examples he discusses is reading hadith.
There can be no serious dispute over the virtue of studying the words and life of the Messenger of Allah ﷺ. Yet Ibn al-Hajj's concern remained: the excellence of reading hadith in general does not by itself establish the Mawlid as a recurring religious occasion for doing so.
The principle is the same.
The issue is not the seerah. It is not salawat. It is not feeding people. It is not Qur’an.
The issue is the religious specification of the occasion.
Once this distinction is understood, the common response, “But everything we are doing is good,” no longer settles the question. Everything may indeed be good in itself, while the recurring religious specification still requires evidence.
“But Aren't We Simply Taking Advantage of the Opportunity?”
There is another response which deserves careful consideration because, properly understood, it helps us avoid going too far in the opposite direction.
Someone may say: “We are not claiming that Rabi‘ al-Awwal itself contains a new act of worship. People are simply thinking and talking about the Prophet ﷺ at this time of year, so why not take advantage of the opportunity and teach them his seerah? Isn't this simply a matter of benefit, what the jurists call maslahah mursalah?”
Here an important distinction needs to be made.
Islam allows Muslims to develop new means of achieving objectives that the Sharia has already established. Imam al-Shatibi discusses this question at length in al-I‘tisam, precisely because people had confused maslahah mursalah with innovation in religion.
Among the examples he gives is the collection of the Qur’an into a single compilation after the death of the Prophet ﷺ. When many reciters were killed at Yamamah, ‘Umar رضي الله عنه feared that continued losses could threaten the preservation of the Qur’an. Abu Bakr رضي الله عنه initially hesitated because the Prophet ﷺ had not undertaken that particular compilation, but eventually accepted the proposal.
Why was this not an innovation in worship?
Because they were not creating a new act through which Muslims would draw closer to Allah. A new circumstance had arisen, and they adopted a means of protecting something the Sharia had already unquestionably commanded them to preserve: the Qur’an.
The difference can be understood very simply today.
A microphone helps people hear the khutbah; it does not create a new khutbah. A printed seerah curriculum helps us teach the life of the Prophet ﷺ; it does not create a new act of worship. A website, an app, a school timetable or a conference venue can all serve legitimate religious objectives without acquiring religious virtue themselves.
The means may change while the religion being served remains the same.
Al-Shatibi therefore makes an important distinction between maslahah and introducing new devotional specifications. In matters of worship, he explains, we are not simply left to invent new forms of drawing close to Allah because they appear beneficial to us. The forms of worship are received from the Sharia, whereas new means may be adopted to preserve or facilitate objectives the Sharia has already established.
Applied to Rabi‘ al-Awwal, this produces a distinction that is both important and practical.
Suppose the month arrives and suddenly Muslims are asking more questions about the Prophet ﷺ. Perhaps the wider community is discussing the Mawlid, parents are asking about his birth, young Muslims are searching online for information about him, and a masjid recognises an opportunity.
The masjid says: “People are interested in Rasulullah ﷺ right now. Let us teach them authentic seerah. Let us answer their questions. Let us distribute good material and use this opportunity to connect them with his Sunnah.”
There need not be anything problematic about that.
The month is being used as an opportunity to achieve an already established objective. The religious virtue remains attached to learning and teaching the seerah, not to the calendar date itself.
But compare that with saying: “The anniversary of the Prophet’s birth has arrived, and therefore every year at this time we establish a religious gathering through which we commemorate his birth and express our gratitude.”
The same seerah may be taught in both gatherings.
The same speaker may even deliver both lectures.
But the underlying question is different.
In the first case, the date provides an opportunity.
In the second, the date provides the religious reason for the observance.
That difference may appear subtle, but it is fundamental.
Maslahah mursalah can provide new means of serving what the Sharia has already established. It does not give us an unrestricted licence to create new devotional specifications and then justify them because they appear beneficial.
So the practical question becomes:
Are we using an opportunity to serve the Sunnah, or have we turned the opportunity itself into a religious occasion?
This distinction also protects us from correcting one excess by falling into another. Not every seerah lecture held during Rabi‘ al-Awwal should automatically be condemned as an innovation. If public interest creates an opportunity to teach people about Rasulullah ﷺ, then use it.
But use the opportunity to bring people back to his life and Sunnah rather than turning the opportunity itself into another recurring act of religion.
If This Was an Intended Expression of Love, Who Would Have Reached It Before Us?
There is then another consideration which is difficult to ignore.
If commemorating the Prophet’s birth annually through particular acts of devotion was an intended expression of love and gratitude, we have to ask why those who loved him most did not precede us to it.
Abu Bakr رضي الله عنه loved Rasulullah ﷺ in a way none of us can claim.
‘Umar loved him. ‘Uthman loved him. ‘Ali loved him. His wives loved him. His family loved him. Ibn ‘Abbas, Ibn Mas‘ud, Anas, Abu Hurayrah and the rest of the Companions understood what the coming of Muhammad ﷺ meant for humanity because they had experienced his presence themselves.
Then came the Tabi‘in and those after them, followed by the great imams whose understanding of Islamic law shaped the Muslim world: Abu Hanifah and his students, Malik and his students, al-Shafi‘i and his students, Ahmad and his students.
Yet we do not find these generations establishing an annual religious observance commemorating the Prophet’s birth.
This is not simply an argument that “they did not do it, therefore it is forbidden.” The argument is more careful than that.
The significance lies in the fact that the reason for doing it was completely present, and there was no obstacle preventing them from doing it.
They knew he had been born. They knew the magnitude of that blessing. They loved him. They understood gratitude. They knew the virtues of Qur’an, dhikr, charity, teaching and feeding people.
Nothing prevented them from bringing these acts together every year to commemorate his birth if they understood such an observance to be desired by the Sharia.
Yet they did not.
That absence carries weight in matters of devotional practice precisely because the cause was present and the opportunity existed.
And it leads to a simple question worth asking ourselves: if this were an intended religious expression of love for Rasulullah ﷺ, is it plausible that generation after generation of those who knew him, loved him and understood his Sunnah best would all fail to reach it before us?
What About the Scholars Who Permitted the Mawlid?
At this point, fairness requires an acknowledgement.
Recognised later scholars did permit restricted forms of the Mawlid. Among the best known are Imam al-Suyuti and the position he transmits from Ibn Hajar al-‘Asqalani.
This should neither be hidden nor exaggerated.
Their existence means that this issue should not become an excuse for attacking ordinary Muslims who follow recognised scholarship. But neither does the existence of later disagreement mean that the lay reader must simply be presented with two positions and told to choose between great scholars.
The evidence still has to be weighed.
Ibn Hajar acknowledged that the Mawlid was not transmitted from the righteous Salaf of the first three generations. He nevertheless sought a basis for a restricted observance through the principle of gratitude, drawing an analogy with ‘Ashura. Allah saved Musa عليه السلام, and gratitude for that blessing became connected with worship on ‘Ashura. Ibn Hajar reasoned that gratitude for the coming of Muhammad ﷺ, surely among the greatest blessings Allah bestowed upon humanity, could similarly be expressed through legitimate acts such as Qur’an, charity and feeding people.
This is a serious scholarly argument and deserves to be represented as such.
But there remains an important difference...
‘Ashura did not acquire its religious significance merely because later Muslims reasoned that the salvation of Musa عليه السلام was worthy of annual commemoration. Its connection to worship was affirmed by the Messenger of Allah ﷺ himself.
That is precisely what remains to be established for an annual Mawlid.
Moreover, the birth of the Prophet ﷺ was not a blessing whose significance became apparent only centuries later. The Companions knew it. They loved him beyond our capacity to imagine. They understood gratitude to Allah, and all of the acts later used to express that gratitude were available to them.
Yet they did not infer from the general principle of gratitude the establishment of an annual religious observance for his birth.
For this reason, the stronger conclusion is that the general legitimacy of gratitude, seerah, charity, salawat and feeding people does not itself establish the Prophet’s birth anniversary as a recurring religious occasion.
Recognising the scholarship on the other side does not require us to suspend judgement. Great scholars can exercise ijtihad and differ while the evidence on a particular question remains stronger in one direction.
And here, the evidence points towards not establishing the Mawlid as a recurring religious observance.
There is, however, another piece of evidence which makes this conclusion not only stronger, but more beautiful.
The Prophet ﷺ Did Not Leave His Birth Without Guidance
Sometimes the discussion is framed as though rejecting an annual Mawlid means that the birth of Muhammad ﷺ has no place in Muslim devotion. But the Sunnah tells us otherwise.
The Messenger of Allah ﷺ was asked about fasting on Monday, and he replied:
ذَاكَ يَوْمٌ وُلِدْتُ فِيهِ، وَيَوْمٌ بُعِثْتُ أَوْ أُنْزِلَ عَلَيَّ فِيهِ
“That is the day on which I was born, and the day on which I was commissioned, or revelation was sent down to me.”
This narration changes the tone of the discussion completely, as we see that the Sharia did not neglect his birth. The Prophet ﷺ himself mentioned it and connected it to worship.
But look carefully at the worship to which he connected it.
He fasted Monday.
He did not establish an annual gathering on the 12th of Rabi‘ al-Awwal. He did not instruct the Companions to gather once a year and commemorate his birth. Instead, he connected the blessing of his birth and mission to a day that returns every week.
So if someone says, “I want to thank Allah for sending Muhammad ﷺ,” we should not extinguish that feeling but direct it as follows:
"You want to thank Allah for the birth of His Messenger ﷺ? The Messenger ﷺ himself has shown you one way. Fast Monday. And seven days later, Allah gives you another Monday. Then another."
The Sunnah does not give us less remembrance of Muhammad ﷺ. In one sense, it gives us far more. Instead of one annual occasion, it places before us a recurring weekly opportunity to remember the blessing of his birth and mission through an act he himself practised.
There is also something worth reflecting upon here. That the Prophet ﷺ was born on a Monday is established through authentic hadith, whereas historians differed over the precise numerical date of his birth in Rabi‘ al-Awwal. The twelfth became the most famous view, but it was not the only one.
There is no need to turn this into another argument, as the purpose of this mention is the opportunity to ponder, and reflection is enough.
The point here is that the part established clearly by authentic Sunnah is Monday, and Monday is precisely the part to which the Prophet ﷺ attached worship.
Perhaps we have spent too much energy debating a disputed annual date while neglecting the established weekly Sunnah.
Discussing the Practice Without Judging the Heart
None of this requires us to question the sincerity of Muslims who participate in Mawlid gatherings.
In fact, the report of Ibn Mas‘ud teaches us precisely the opposite approach.
The people told him:
ما أردنا إلا الخير
“We intended nothing but good.”
He did not need to accuse them of lying about their intentions in order to correct their practice.
Likewise, a Muslim today may attend a Mawlid because he genuinely loves Rasulullah ﷺ. He may have been taught its permissibility by scholars he trusts. He may come from a community in which it has been practised for generations. He may know nothing of the detailed legal discussion surrounding specification in worship.
There is therefore no need to turn a ruling on an act into a judgement upon someone's heart.
Ibn Taymiyyah is particularly instructive here. Despite regarding the Mawlid as an introduced religious season, he acknowledged that some people who observed it could possess sincere love and veneration for the Messenger ﷺ and receive reward on account of their good intention. His acknowledgement was not an endorsement of the Mawlid itself; it was a recognition that judging an act and judging everything within the heart of the person performing it are not the same thing.
We can say that an action is not established without saying that everyone who performs it is insincere.
We can maintain a conclusion without insulting those who follow another scholarly position.
We can teach the Sunnah without turning the Sunnah into a weapon against Muslims.
And just as those who participate in the Mawlid should not dismiss every objection with labels such as “Wahhabi”, or accuse others of not loving the Prophet ﷺ, those who oppose the Mawlid should not behave as though opposition to it is itself the ultimate proof of following the Sunnah.
That would simply replace one imbalance with another.
We Should Not Correct One Extreme by Creating Another
And perhaps this is where the discussion needs to return to where it began.
The purpose of speaking about the Mawlid is not to create distance between Muslims and Muhammad ﷺ.
It is certainly not to make Muslims frightened of speaking about his birth, reading his seerah or expressing their love for him.
If someone finishes this discussion thinking, “Perhaps we should simply speak less about the Prophet ﷺ so that we do not fall into innovation,” then something has gone badly wrong.
We need the opposite.
We need Muslims to know him deeply, but we need to know him for a purpose. Not merely so that we can recount where he was born, who his relatives were, which battles occurred in which year and how many journeys he undertook. We want to know him so that we can follow him.
There is little value in knowing that the Prophet ﷺ was merciful if that knowledge never makes us more merciful. There is little value in knowing about his honesty if our own business dealings remain dishonest. There is little value in memorising stories of his patience if every disagreement brings out the worst in us.
The seerah is not merely information about Muhammad ﷺ.
It is an invitation to allow his example to reshape the way we worship Allah and live among His creation.
So yes, teach the seerah in Rabi‘ al-Awwal. If people are thinking about Rasulullah ﷺ during this month and there is an opportunity to teach them his life, use that opportunity. If people are asking questions about his birth, answer them. If the public conversation has opened a door through which someone might discover his character and Sunnah, walk through it. But do not turn the month itself into a religious observance that the Messenger ﷺ did not establish.
And equally, do not allow the seerah to disappear when Rabi‘ al-Awwal ends.
Teach it in Ramadan.
Teach it in Muharram.
Teach it in the ordinary months when there is no annual controversy.
Teach your children until Muhammad ﷺ is more familiar to them than the celebrities and influencers whose lives enter our homes every day.
Study his shama’il. Study his worship. Study his family life, leadership, business dealings, courage, mercy, patience and forgiveness. Send abundant salawat upon him. Revive the Sunnahs that have disappeared from our lives.
And when Monday comes, remember why he fasted it.
We should not attempt to correct one extreme by falling into another. The answer to an expression of love that goes beyond what was legislated is not emotional distance from the Messenger ﷺ. And the answer to harshness from some who oppose the Mawlid is not to establish religious practices without sufficient evidence.
There is a better path: Know him - Love him - Follow him.
This is why Allah did not merely command us to claim love, but He connected love to ittibā‘ (following):
﴾قُلْ إِن كُنتُمْ تُحِبُّونَ اللَّهَ فَاتَّبِعُونِي يُحْبِبْكُمُ اللَّهُ﴿
“Say: If you love Allah, then follow me; Allah will love you.”
And perhaps, when another Rabi‘ al-Awwal arrives and the familiar debate begins again, we should ask ourselves something deeper than whether we attended a Mawlid or argued against one.
Did we come out of Rabi‘ al-Awwal knowing Rasulullah ﷺ better?
Did knowing him increase our love for him? Did that love make us follow him more closely?
Did his mercy become more visible in our homes?
Did his honesty enter our businesses? Did his patience enter our disagreements? Did his Sunnah enter our worship?
Did our children come to know the man whom we say we love?
Because if none of that happened, then whichever side of the Mawlid argument we stood on, there is a danger that we spent another Rabi‘ al-Awwal arguing about Muhammad ﷺ without actually drawing closer to his guidance.
The objective was never merely to win an argument about his birth, rather it was to follow the man who was born.
And Allah تعالى knows best.
Your brother
Sajid Umar
Location: 'somewhere en route to the hereafter'
12/03/1448 (AH) - 25/08/2026
Sajid Umar
Location: 'somewhere en route to the hereafter'
12/03/1448 (AH) - 25/08/2026
Comments