Central Khutbah: “Human Beings Are Truly Weak, and It Is the Meaning of Their Lives That Makes Them Strong” (Video)
Human beings are weak. Weak in the face of pain, injustice, neglect, loss, pressure, and fear. Sometimes, it is neither hunger, fatigue, nor poverty that breaks them, but the feeling of being unseen, of not mattering, and of believing that their presence means nothing to anyone. That is why it is not merely physical strength that enables a person to stand firm, nor is it outward freedom alone that saves them. What sustains, unifies, and uplifts them is the meaning for which they live.
When a person loses the sense of purpose in life, their sense of self begins to weaken. They start seeking attention, recognition, companionship, and proof that they exist. This is why the image of a little boy making a mess of the household furniture simply to attract attention is so deeply moving. His aim is not destruction in itself; what hurts him is being neglected. He wants someone to pay attention to him, even if only through criticism, because the self cries out when it is crushed by neglect. This scene is repeated in countless families as a silent protest that many refuse to hear. (On the Paths of Selfishness, Salman al-’Awda, p. 161).
Even more heartbreaking is the story of a father who, upon returning home, became angry over the mischief his restless child had caused and punished him by tying his hands together. The child’s mother was deeply distressed but felt unable to intervene. After several hours, the child’s crying stopped. The mother then noticed that his hands had turned blue from the tight bindings. A medical examination revealed that the blood supply had been fatally compromised, and both of the child’s hands had to be amputated. Then came a sentence that pierces the heart and reveals the profound human need to be seen, accepted, and protected:
“Dad, give me back my hands. I won’t damage the furniture anymore!”
(On the Paths of Selfishness, Salman al-’Awda, p. 161).
This sentence is not merely the cry of a child who has suffered a terrible injustice. It is also the cry of the human soul when it is stripped of what is most fundamental: security, acceptance, and dignity. The child did not ask for a toy, a reward, or another chance to be praised. He simply asked for his hands back. He longed to be restored to his human condition. He pleaded for what he could no longer live without. In this single sentence lies a profound truth: a human being can endure much, but when their very humanity is violated, they begin to collapse from within.
This is why the deprivation of freedom, the trampling of dignity, and constant humiliation destroy not only a person’s outward peace but also their very sense of existence. A person becomes merely a number, loses their identity, while their sense of self is repeatedly told that it has no worth. In such a condition, the greatest danger is not only the pain they suffer but the fact that they begin to doubt their own value. (On the Paths of Selfishness, Salman al-’Awda, p. 161).
Yet it is precisely here that another truth emerges: even when a person is weak, they can endure if they have a sense of purpose. True strength does not consist in being spared hardship but in having a reason to bear it. Some live for the children they are raising. Others live for a friend who needs their help. Others devote themselves to a mission to complete, an idea to uphold, a trust (amānah) to fulfill, a responsibility to carry, or a legacy of goodness they wish to leave behind. As long as a person feels needed, believes their presence has a place, and knows their life is not in vain, they have a reason not to sink into despair. (On the Paths of Selfishness, Salman al-’Awda, p. 162).
That is why an empty life becomes a burden. A life without goals—even modest ones—becomes a great prison. A person may not be physically imprisoned, yet inwardly they are confined. They walk, work, speak, and meet people without knowing why they rise each morning, why they strive, or what they are carrying their burdens for. Then even the smallest burden becomes overwhelming, because nothing within them remains to sustain it. (On the Paths of Selfishness, Salman al-’Awda, p. 162).
The deepest need of a broken person is not always expressed in words, yet the depths of their soul whisper:
“I want to be certain that I exist.”
“I am not worthless.”
(On the Paths of Selfishness, Salman al-’Awda, p. 162).
This is the very heart of the human struggle. Human beings do not seek only bread, security, and protection. They also seek confirmation that their existence carries weight, that their lives are not superfluous, and that their sense of self is not insignificant. When they lose this certainty, they begin to fall apart. When they regain it, they begin to stand upright once more.
One may therefore say that human beings are indeed weak, but what makes them strong is not the absence of hardship—it is the presence of meaning. Strength does not lie in harshness or in pretending that nothing affects us. True strength lies in knowing why we endure, why we rise each morning, whom we benefit, and what value our existence holds. Meaning does not always remove pain, but it gives pain a direction. It does not erase trials, but it gives us a reason to carry them. It does not always change our outward circumstances, but it transforms our inner response to them.
For this reason, it is true that human beings are not strong by themselves. What makes them strong is the purpose, responsibility, and reason for existence that they carry within. When they possess these, they are able to bear what would break others. When they lose them, even abundance cannot prevent their inner defeat.
Human beings are, indeed, weak. Yet it is the meaning of their lives that makes them strong. That is why one of the greatest responsibilities each person bears is never to lose that meaning. For when they lose it, they gradually begin to lose themselves.
(Central khutbah by the Religious Leader Hafiz Hilmija Redžić on April 10, 2026, at the “Centre Islamique Gazi Isa-beg” in Esch-sur-Alzette)
