I met him at a quiet masjid corner after Maghrib. Tall, well-groomed beard, crisp jubba, and that kind of serious look that said, “I came here to pray, not play.” We nodded at each other. He noticed I raised my hands after ruku’ and placed them back on my chest.
He turned, gently:
“Brother… did the Prophet ﷺ place his hands like that after ruku’? Where’s the hadith?”
And just like that, we had ourselves a good old-fashioned Qur’an-and-Sunnah face-off. No shouting, no insults—just respectful disagreement between two Muslims trying their best.
I’m a Shafi’i Muslim. He follows a more literalist approach.
Over the next 20 minutes, we exchanged debates on bid’ah, rituals, culture, and context—all through real-life examples most Singaporean Muslims would recognise.
Let me share a few highlights.
1. “Why raise your hands after ruku’ and place them back on your chest?”
I showed him sahih hadiths from Bukhari and Muslim that the Prophet ﷺ raised his hands after ruku’. As for placing them back on the chest, it’s a continuation of the qiyam posture—backed by Shafi’i jurists. Not invented, just interpreted.
He raised a brow:
“But the hadiths stop at ‘stood straight’. Shouldn’t we stop there too?”
Fair point, no argument on that.
2. “Yasin night? Every Thursday?”
Ah yes. The classic.
Yes, many families in Singapore recite Surah Yasin every Thursday night. No, it’s not a prophetic ritual. It became a comforting rhythm, passed down like sambal recipes and love for Tiger Balm.
I told him honestly:
“Look, when I was in Japan, I ate wagyu and sushi for 3 days. But on day 4, I needed my rice and curry. Not because it’s superior, but it’s home.”
For some, Yasin is that comfort food for the soul.
He didn’t deny it. Just warned, “Don’t treat it as wajib.”
Agreed.
4. What About Collective Dua After Fard Prayer?
The strongest established practice after the obligatory prayer is the prescribed adhkar. Scholars differ on making collective dua or regularly raising the hands after every fard prayer.
Some scholars permit collective dua as a general form of supplication so long as it is not treated as obligatory or as an established Sunnah after every prayer. Other scholars discourage turning it into a fixed routine because they do not find clear evidence that the Prophet ﷺ practised it that way after every fard salah.
That makes this a recognised area of scholarly disagreement. The useful response is to follow trusted scholarship without condemning Muslims who follow another recognised view.
5. “Isn’t modern mixing a bigger problem than reciting Mawlid?”
Now here’s where I flipped the script.
I asked him: “If you allow a woman to work in a male environment due to necessity, can’t you allow someone to recite Yasin out of spiritual necessity too?”
He paused.
I continued, not in defiance but reflection.
Let’s face it. Sahabah lived in a time with no social media, no workplace gossip, no malls, no “NDP preview nights”. We, on the other hand, are juggling deadlines, parent-care, interfaith workplaces, rising costs, and still trying to maintain tahajjud.
If reciting Surah Yasin, attending Mawlid, or pausing for a short du’a after salah brings someone closer to Allah—it could be the only spiritual spark they get all week. Why stamp it out?
As long as they don’t believe it’s wajib or a new ritual prescribed by Allah, maybe we need to look at intent and not just label.
Reality of today: Working Women!
Precisely. Isn’t reading Surah Yasin out of spiritual need—or attending a Mawlid to connect with the Prophet ﷺ—just as valid as how a Muslim woman might mix with men at work out of necessity but cautiously?
Hadith from Sahih al-Bukhari (5232)
Narrated `Uqbah ibn Aamir:
The Prophet ﷺ said:
“Beware of entering upon women (who are not your mahram).”
A man from the Ansar said:
“O Messenger of Allah, what about the hamw (the husband’s relatives)?”
He replied:
“The hamw is death.”
If we can accept that a woman going to work and sharing space with men out of necessity is not a sin—because it’s not her intention to disobey, and because the situation is forced by circumstance—then why are we quick to call reading Yasin on Thursday nights or gathering for Mawlid a blameworthy innovation, especially if it’s done out of a spiritual need or as a way to reconnect with Allah?
That’s a fair comparison.
In both cases, the person is not trying to change the religion. They are trying to hold onto it—imperfectly, maybe, but sincerely. Maybe someone reads Yasin weekly not thinking it’s fardh, but because they’re overwhelmed with life and that one surah gives them peace. Maybe a young man attends Mawlid not thinking it’s an Eid, but because he misses the Prophet ﷺ and has no other way to express it in today’s world of distractions.
We can’t ignore that spiritual comfort is a kind of necessity too.
And as for women staying home, yes, the rewards of caring for parents, in-laws, and children are massive. If a woman chooses to stop working and devote herself to that, relying on Allah for provision, that’s a form of tawakkul and maybe, as you said, it opens the gates of barakah and ajr, and she doesnt need to go work. But will her family allow? Will her husband be able to cut cost and work harder so she can follow the The Righteous Predecessors?
I doubt so, as in most instances, many reasons are being cited. Working with Boundaries is Permissible, She May Not Be There by Choice, Quran does not say women cannot work. But isn’t working alongside men, especially travelling in a public transport side by side is haram or even innovation?
But not everyone is at that level of trust. Some worry about bills. Some feel pressure to contribute. Some women work because no one else will help them. So instead of blaming them, maybe we should build better support—so they can make that choice freely, with peace of mind.
Final Reflection: Let’s Talk Before We Cancel
Our conversation in the masjid courtyard began with raised hands after ruku’, wandered through Yasin nights and tahlil, and ended with a truth we often forget:
“The heart knows what it needs, even if the fiqh book hasn’t footnoted it yet.”
We live in a world far removed from Madinah 1400 years ago. It’s not about rejecting the Sunnah, it’s about surviving long enough to return to it meaningfully.
This brings me to something personal I shared with him toward the end.
I asked, “If we say that reading Surah Yasin regularly is an innovation, what about the woman who goes to work daily, rides a packed MRT, speaks to non-mahram colleagues, all out of necessity? Is she sinful too?”
He paused.
Because the answer isn’t that simple.
In Singapore today, even conservative Muslim women work—not out of rebellion, but real-life pressure. Rent is high. Parents need help. Some husbands can’t earn enough. Some women work to keep the family afloat not to prove a point. Others do it to serve, to heal, to educate, to help other women.
And just like that woman in a hijab walking into an office full of men with modesty in her heart and intention in her soul, the elderly makcik reading Yasin on a Thursday night is doing the same. She’s trying to hold on. To remember Allah. To keep her soul alive amid noise and fatigue.
Islam is not blind to these realities. The Prophet ﷺ came as a mercy to all worlds—not a filter to cancel what doesn’t fit in black and white boxes.
So before we shout “bid’ah,” maybe we need to ask: Is this innovation—or is it intention wearing the clothes of culture?
And maybe, sometimes, those clothes are warmer than we think.
