Just like in the tale of the boy who cried wolf—where eventually the wolf really did appear—so too will the Day of Judgment one day arrive in reality. Some scholars may come close to predicting its date, but by then, few will believe them. The reason? The credibility of the entire scholarly class may have already eroded due to the actions of a few.
When that time comes, some sincere scholars may attempt to reintroduce the core tenets of Islam to the public. But the damage done by certain preachers—through misleading rhetoric and divisive actions—will have made it harder for people to listen with open hearts. At that point, people will remember how, generation after generation, the promise of Paradise was used to silence the cries of the poor, how injustices in this life were conveniently overlooked under the banner of divine judgment in the next, and how the elite maintained their comfort while the oppressed were left to suffer.
But is Qiyamah—or the Day of Judgment—just one final cosmic explosion? I once read a compelling line from a renowned Middle Eastern author (unfortunately, I can’t recall the name or the book). He proposed that we shouldn’t limit the idea of Qiyamah to one global event. Rather, whenever a community is wiped out or faces catastrophic loss, that is their Qiyamah. Take, for instance, the recent earthquakes in Myanmar and Thailand. For those who perished, wasn’t that their own end of the world? Is what’s happening in Palestine any less horrific than a divine reckoning?
There may be theological pushback to such interpretations, particularly from traditional scholars. But in a broader humanitarian context, such a perspective cannot be completely dismissed.
In today’s world, restraint in language is more important than ever for religious scholars. If one lacks the knowledge of context (shān-e-nuzūl), or a clear understanding of whether a hadith is authentic or fabricated, it is wiser to remain silent. Silence in such cases is not weakness—it is a form of strength and reflects the deeper beauty of Islam.
People are naturally drawn to faith. But if that attraction is wounded by reckless speech, it gives rise to aversion and even hatred toward religion. Sadly, that’s our current reality. Religious leaders should instead strive to present the wisdom and core of Islam with compassion and relevance—especially for life in the 21st century, whether in Toronto, Calgary, or Dhaka. Each time false promises or fear-mongering distort religion’s image, public trust crumbles a bit more. We’re now seeing the effects—people mocking religion rather than turning to it for guidance.
Disagreement isn’t inherently bad. But relevance and context matter. Differences in interpretation are acceptable—but one must consider the platform and the audience. Topics like the coming of Dajjal, the Mahdi, and Jesus (peace be upon him), and the belief in Qiyamah are essential parts of Islamic creed. But since the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) neither received a clear revelation on the timing of Qiyamah nor declared one, his spiritual heirs—our modern scholars—should not claim certainty where even he remained silent. To do so reflects a lack of intellectual humility.
Yes, it’s true—we are moving toward the end times. That sentiment has echoed through centuries. But that doesn’t mean the Earth won’t survive another thousand years. There’s no solid ground for such pessimism. So instead of falling into despair, let’s remain hopeful. Let us pray that this beautiful Earth—our shared home from Vancouver to Sylhet—continues to nurture future generations, helping them thrive, dream, and grow. Let this planet be a cradle for thousands more to come.
