“…so that I may do righteous deeds concerning what I have left behind.” (Qur’an 23:99–100) —lest his time be squandered. He does not say, “Perhaps I can indulge in wealth, or take my pleasure with a wife, or enjoy a mount, or live in palaces.” Rather, he says, “Perhaps I may perform righteous deeds with the time that remains to me.”

Time has passed and I have gained nothing from it. Time is the most precious possession, yet today it is the cheapest in our eyes. We spend many hours with no benefit at all; indeed, we while away much of our time in what is harmful. I speak not of one man only, but of the Muslims in general. Today—alas—most of them are heedless, distracted, and frivolous. They are not earnest about the affairs of their religion; the greater number live in negligence and luxury, looking only to pamper their bodies even if they destroy their faith. By contrast, the Messenger—peace and blessings be upon him—was always occupied with something beneficial, whether of personal or public concern.

While the Companions were sitting with him, there appeared before them a man “dressed in exceedingly white garments, with hair that was intensely black; no sign of travel was visible on him, yet none of us recognized him.” This was remarkable: he was not a traveler such that we might deem him a stranger to the town, nor was he known so that we could say he was one of its residents.

They were astonished at him. The newcomer was spotless: clothes dazzlingly white, hair jet-black—a young man on whom no trace of journeying could be seen. A traveler, especially in those days, would arrive disheveled and dusty, for they rode camels or walked on foot and the roads were unpaved and full of dust. But on this man there was no mark of travel, and none of us knew him. He was, then, a stranger who was somehow not a stranger at all.