Contents:
The Shaykh’s generosity
His teachings
Why his example matters for Britain today?
Poverty in the UK today
Applying his teachings to the UK context
Working together
Transforming communities through generosity
Islam places caring for the disadvantaged and feeding people at the very heart of its spiritual practice. Few figures embody this ethos more than the Ghawth, Shaykh ‘Abd al-Qādir al-Jīlānī - the great Sufi scholar and saint of Baghdad. While his miracles are widely celebrated (and rightly so), they are beyond the reach of ordinary people. To dwell on them alone risks turning inspiration into futility. What we can imitate, however, are his teachings rooted in service, thus offering timeless guidance on how to live faithfully and making meaningful difference in the lives of others.
The Shaykh’s generosity
His generosity was immediate and uncalculated. On one occasion, a pauper could not afford to cross a river by boat and was sitting by a tree dejected. The Ghawth enquired about his hardships and after some time, a visitor gifted the Ghawth thirty thousand coins; thereafter he gave every last coin to the man, relieving his hardship in an instant.1
In another instance, whilst travelling to Hajj, the Ghawth stopped at Hillah. Though many including the wealthy offered him hospitality, he chose instead to stay with a poor old man. The town inhabitants flooded the Ghawth with food, gifts, money, and livestock. Yet before leaving, he gave all of it to his host. Years later, the old man had become the wealthiest in the town2. Few possess such foresight, the ability to see how one act of generosity can transform a life and ripple through a community. In this, the Ghawth revealed a profound detachment: turning away from comforts and luxuries that could have benefitted him personally in order to benefit others - a rare quality in any age.
The detachment from material wealth shown by the Ghawth was remarkable. Even in his own home, simplicity triumphed. In the story of the thief who became a saint with his gaze, his dwelling contained little furniture, reflecting his focus not on possessions but on service. For the Ghawth, faqr (spiritual poverty) was the highest state. To detach from worldly possessions, and to seek and depend on Allah, and thus giving freely.
His teachings
The Ghawth famously stated that “I have looked at all deeds and found the best to be the feeding of impoverished people3.” This was reflected in his madrassa, where his hospitality extended far beyond education and spiritual counselling. It became a kitchen of mercy such that anyone who arrived seeking food was fed, regardless of faith or status.
The spiritual purpose of charity lay at the very heart of his teachings. Giving, he taught, purifies both one’s property and one’s soul, stripping away selfishness and ego until the heart becomes a vessel of divine mercy4. The Qur’ān declares: “By no means shall you attain righteousness unless you give of that which you love; and whatever you give, Allah knows well” (3:92). True charity, then, is not measured by the size of the gift, but by the sincerity of the heart that gives it. As the Sufi poet wrote:
“What if the poor lover has no gold or silver?At least he has the currency of his heart, soul, and high spirits.5”
Even those with little material wealth can still give generously of their spirit, embodying the highest form of charity.
Shaykh ʿAbd al-Qādir al-Jīlānī taught: “The generosity of the faithful is such that they keep nothing for themselves, neither the reputation of being good nor the hope of reward in the Hereafter.6” Charity, in his view, was not a favour to the poor but an act of love offered to Allah. It must never be tainted by pride or expectation, for “O you who believe, make not your charity worthless by reminders of your generosity and by causing vexation” (2:264). Such giving uplifts both giver and receiver, binding hearts together in humility and compassion.
Why His Example Matters for Britain Today
The principles and values of the Ghawth are not confined to twelfth-century Baghdad. His stories are not distant relics of saintly times, but a living roadmap for addressing the moral crisis unfolding on our own streets. They challenge us to reconsider our relationship with wealth and consumerism: how easily do we spend on luxuries while others struggle for necessities? Must every new model of phone, every fleeting fashion purchase, outweigh the chance to ease another’s hardship? His teachings compel us to measure our worth not by what we accumulate, but by what we give. Modern thinkers across religious and philosophical traditions have reached similar conclusions about the moral cost of unchecked consumerism. Sociologist Zygmunt Bauman argued that late-modern societies have replaced the pursuit of virtue with the pursuit of novelty; people now “shop for identity” rather than cultivate character7. Karen Armstrong similarly warns that the pursuit of self-gratification numbs empathy and compassion8.Seen in this light, Shaykh al-Jīlānī’s message of detachment and service speaks to a universal human need: to reclaim the soul from the marketplace and restore compassion as society’s moral compass. Britain’s crisis of poverty is not only economic but spiritual. It is a symptom of a society that has forgotten the joy of sufficiency and the duty of compassion.
Poverty in the UK Today
The United Kingdom faces a deepening poverty crisis, exacerbated by governmental failures. According to the Joseph Rowntree Foundation, 4.5 million children now live in poverty, while food bank use has reached record highs9. The Trussell Trust distributed over three million emergency food parcels in a year10. Rising costs of food, energy, and housing have made daily survival an exhausting struggle for families.
Families who once managed are now forced to choose between heating and eating. Almost one-third of children live in relative poverty, and homelessness is rising sharply in major cities. These are not just statistics but they are children going to school hungry, parents skipping meals, and elderly people shivering in unheated homes. The scale of deprivation challenges the very moral conscience of the nation.
Applying His Teachings to the UK Context
Just as the Ghawth’s madrassa became a sanctuary where no one went hungry, mosques in Britain can expand their role as community lifelines. Some initiatives already exist like community iftars and mosque-run food banks/community fridges in Birmingham, Halifax, and Bradford but his model demands more: sustainable, year-round projects that meet both material and emotional needs. Many mosque-run food banks, open for only a few hours a week and leave long lines outside, highlighting the need for more consistent and dignified support. The Ghawth’s ethos calls us not simply to respond to hunger occasionally, but to create structures of generosity that eradicate it.
Crucially, the Ghawth emphasised education and empowerment, holding daily lectures in thirteen subjects. For the UK, this means food aid must also open pathways out of poverty via skills training, employment support, mentorship, and community networks. Within Muslim communities, there are business leaders, tech experts, professors and teachers. If mobilised, they could help turn food aid into a ladder, offering hope for tomorrow. After all, did the early khānqāhs not teach languages, self-discipline, jurisprudence, cooking, wrestling, poetry, even music?
This may seem like a daunting responsibility for mosques, yet the truth is that many have significant funds in their treasuries. Tens of thousands are often spent on decorative events and poetry gatherings. The proceeds from these gatherings are recycled into doing another gathering, and it becomes an endless cycle. Rather, since our neighbours go hungry, we should in addition to these gatherings, strive to create meaningful change and impact. The Ghawth’s model reminds us: spiritual priorities must align with social realities. Hearts must be decorated with generosity before walls are adorned with flowers.
Muslim communities can draw on enduring Islamic frameworks. Reviving waqf (charitable endowments) could provide permanent funding for housing, education, and community kitchens. Localised zakat networks can ensure that British Muslims’ charity addresses poverty on their own doorstep, echoing the Ghawth’s call to serve those nearest first.
Beyond charity, mosques could initiate social enterprises, such as cafés, recycling ventures, or catering projects, that employ those they feed. This merges service and sustainability, transforming aid recipients into contributors. Such initiatives align with the Ghawth’s belief that empowering others is the highest form of generosity.
Working together
Moreover, government and organisations should actively collaborate with mosques, recognising that mosques are far more than spaces of prayer. They are vital community hubs that can play a central role in addressing social challenges, and contribute to a stronger and just society. This does not mean government control or interference in religious life. Rather, it means genuine partnership on shared social goals, with mosques maintaining autonomy while serving the wider community.
Such collaboration also makes financial sense. Food banks require substantial overheads for rent and maintenance, while mosques already exist across the country. Redirecting funds from overheads to resources could multiply the impact.
Transforming Communities Through Generosity
The Prophet ﷺ said: “The most beloved of people to Allah are those who are most beneficial to others.11” The Ghawth was undoubtedly on the path of the Prophetﷺ. His example shows that faith is not an escape from social responsibility but its driving force. By reviving his spirit of structured generosity, Muslims in the UK can transform not only their communities but also their own spiritual lives, discovering purpose in service.
True generosity must move from reaction to prevention, from distributing food to dismantling the structures that create hunger.
For Muslims in Britain today, following his model means turning mosques into centres of generosity, supporting food banks, and working with others to end hunger. It means refusing to see poverty as a statistic and recognising it as a call to action. Above all, it means remembering that in giving to others, we answer the call of Allah. As the Ghawth taught, the path to sainthood lies not in what we keep, but in what we give.
In ending, I quote a few couplets of Saʿdī Shīrāzī from his Karīmā:
Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published
Always be steadfast in generosity,For the Creator of life is generous too.Generosity is an elixir that transforms our flaws into virtue,Yet in this age, generosity itself is despised by all.From the fruits of justice is peace within the countryFor the purpose of the country is accomplished through justiceWhoever falls into the trap of greedSurrenders the harvest of his life to the wind
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Akhbār al-Akhyār by Shaykh ‘Abd al-Haq Dihlawī
ibid
Siyar A’lām al-Nubalā’ by Imām Dhahabī
Sirr al-Asrār by Shaykh ‘Abd al-Qadīr al-Jīlānī
چہ شد از عاشق ہيچارہ ندارد زر و سيم
نقد دل دار دو جاں دارد و ہمت دارد
Sirr al-Asrār by Shaykh ‘Abd al-Qadīr al-Jīlānī
Consuming Life by Zygmunt Bauntman
Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life by Karen Armstrong
https://www.jrf.org.uk/child-poverty
https://cms.trussell.org.uk/sites/default/files/wp-assets/EYS-UK-Factsheet-2023-24.pdf
أَحَبُّ النَّاسِ إِلَى اللَّهِ أَنْفَعُهُمْ لِلنَّاسِ. al-Mu’jam al-Awsat by Imām Tabarānī