Imām ʿAlī ar-Riḍā (a.s) said: Muḥarram is the month in which the people of the Jahiliyya would prohibit fighting, but our blood was deemed lawful in it, our sanctity was violated in it, our offspring and our women were made captives in it, fire was ignited in our marquees and what was in them of our provision was plundered. And (despite our relationship) to the Messenger of Allah (s), the sanctity in our affair was not observed.
Surely, on the day of Ḥusayn (a.s), our eyelids were wounded, our tears made to flow, our beloved abased in the land of suffering and affliction. Suffering and affliction rained down on us. So, those who lament should lament on the like of Husain till the day of termination (i.e. the last day of this world), for surely the crying diminishes the great sins. Then, he (a.s) said: When the month of Muḥarram would enter, my father (a.s) would not be seen laughing, and intense grief would overcome him until ten days had passed from it. So, when it would be the tenth day, that day would be the day of his affliction and his mourning and his lamenting. And he would say: This is the day on which Ḥusayn (a.s) was killed.
Reference: Al-Amālī, The Twenty-Seventh Assembly, which is Friday, the First of Muharram, 367 AH. He delivered it after he returned from the Shrine of Imām ar-Riḍā (as), Hadith #2
Muḥarram, a month steeped in profound grief, sadness, and tears, serves as a sanctuary for the broken-hearted who seek solace and peace in the majlis of Imām Ḥusayn (ʿa). It is a time for the collective expression of emotions, where the mind, body, and soul unite with the tragedy of Abā ʿAbdillāh, allowing the faithful to momentarily forget their own pain.
For those grappling with stress, loneliness, anxiety, or depression, the majlis offers an invaluable outlet for healing through Imām Ḥusayn (ʿa). Expressing grief through mataam acknowledges the heart’s pain, while tears affirm that it is acceptable to not be okay. Reflecting on and forgiving oneself and others, as Imām Ḥusayn (ʿa) did with Ḥurr, marks the initial step in healing and personal growth.
The “Five Stages” of Grief
In the context of the majlis, grief progresses through various psychological stages: shock, denial, pain, anger, and acceptance. Despite repeated recountings of Karbalāʾ, we remain in shock over the atrocities faced by the family of Rasūlullāh (ṣ), including the brutal deaths of Imām Ḥusayn’s (ʿa) six-month-old son ʿAlī al-Aṣghar and his thirteen-year-old nephew Qāsim, who was trampled alive by horses. We feel profound pain for Lady Zaynab and the immense hardships she endured. Anger arises from the injustice and inhumane treatment meted out to the Ahlul Bayt by oppressors blinded by greed and worldly desires.
In accepting these losses, we draw strength from Lady Zaynab’s patience and her famous declaration, “I saw nothing but beauty,” as she bore the responsibility of preserving her grandfather’s religion with grace, patience, and dignity. Her resilience reminds us that our traumas can become sources of strength.
Understanding Grief and Trauma through Imām ʿAlī as-Sajjād Zaynul ʿĀbidīn (ʿa)
Grief and trauma profoundly impact mental, emotional, and physical health. We experience Karbalāʾ vicariously when we hear the misayab (events of the tragedy) of Karbalāʾ. The sorrow of losing a youth or child, a mother lamenting her loss, or a father leaving his children makes us relive Karbalāʾ. Imām Sajjād (ʿa), who wept and lamented incessantly after Karbalāʾ, exemplified this deep, enduring grief. He ensured animals were fed and watered before slaughter, recalling his father’s thirst before his martyrdom.
Modern psychology might label Imām Sajjād (ʿa) with Persistent Complex Bereavement Disorder (PCBD). However, through his suffering, he destigmatized grief and trauma, continually praying, serving God, and helping people despite being constantly reminded of Karbalāʾ.
Depression, defined as a “persistent feeling of sadness,” is often seen negatively and treated with antidepressants or temporary cures. But those deeply affected by the tragedy of Karbalāʾ, who grieve profoundly, should not be hastily labeled as “depressed.” Grief has no timeline, and triggers should not be dismissed. Imām Sajjād (ʿa) was often criticized for excessive crying, yet he made those tears a legacy for us.
There is no time frame to heal.
Pain cannot be confined to scientific terms and stages. It manifests as a heaviness in our hearts, where we hurt yet find peace simultaneously. Each tear shed for Imām Ḥusayn (ʿa) is rewarded in this world and the hereafter, with crying offering both physical and mental relief. The act of crying activates the parasympathetic nervous system and release of hormones, fostering a sense of safety and calmness.
We all seek sanctuaries where our tears can flow freely, and the majlis of Ḥusayn (ʿa) offers an exquisite haven for the soul’s purification. In this sacred space, men, women, and children unite in mourning, their individual sorrows coalescing into a collective tribute to our beloved Imam. Through the remembrance of Imām Ḥusayn (ʿa), we discover solace and tranquility during Muḥarram, drawing fortitude from his enduring legacy.
The genuine path to overcoming pain lies in embracing it fully—finding a profound connection with Imām Ḥusayn (ʿa) and the harrowing events of Karbalāʾ. This deep bond transforms personal anguish into a wellspring of strength and spiritual enlightenment, highlighting the transformative power of grief and the timeless significance of remembrance.
Embracing Tranquility in Daily Rituals
In the hustle and bustle of today’s demanding world, it’s essential to carve out moments for self-care and relaxation. These simple practices can serve as a guide to unwind after a taxing day.
Establishing a personal sanctuary, pausing for reflection, engaging in prayers with mindfulness, and cherishing “me” time are some nourishing ways to cultivate a sense of peace and balance.
Remember, in taking care of yourself, you are honoring your own worth and well-being.
Written by:
Fatima Jafri (Volunteer at Kisa Therapy Clinic)