The last will — more than just words on a page, it’s a meaningful and recommended practice in Islam. It reflects your life from cradle to grave, serving your family and guiding the next generation.
To understand how various faiths view writing a last will, it helps to look at the Bible, Torah and Quran. These sacred texts emphasize the importance of preparing for death, offering guidance on inheritance and fair distribution of property. The Quran, especially in chapter Al-Baqarah (2:180), clearly calls it a duty to write a will (wasiyyah), underscoring the need for fairness and transparency in sharing wealth.
Recently, my wife and I went to our family doctor for our annual checkups, and each year they ask if we have a living will to ensure our medical and financial decisions are managed in our best interest, especially if we become incapacitated.
From Prophet Moses, Samuel, Solomon, Luqman, Jesus, Noah, David, Jacob and Muhammad to Imam Ali, the patriarchs, prophets and messengers of Christians, Israelites and Muslims often gathered their families to share final words, leaving behind a legacy of timeless wisdom on the importance of writing a living will or offering heartfelt advice.
One of the masterpieces is the last will of Imam Ali to his sons, Hassan and Hussain.
Looking into the last wills of influential figures like prophets, Imam Ali and notable civil rights leaders or freedom fighters provides spiritual insight and a guide for leading a virtuous, righteous life, emphasizing the value of faith, morality and helping others.
It also sheds light on their historical background, showcasing their courage, generosity and wisdom, and inspiring others to follow their lead in helping the homeless, the sick, orphans, those with mental illness and the underprivileged.
In recent years, following the deaths of Hassan Nasrallah, Gen. Qasim Soleimani and others, I’ve developed a habit of reading the autobiographies, speeches and final wills of influential figures — martyrs, prominent leaders and civil rights icons like Nelson Mandela, the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X. There’s so much to take away from their last wishes and the legacies they left behind.
Reading the wills, autobiographies, and speeches of influential leaders can inspire us to stay committed to justice. Good habits include staying connected to faith, understanding life’s purpose, living simply without ego, and facing challenges with the goal of freeing the community from racism, poverty and oppression.
Whatever your faith — Christian, Jewish, Muslim or otherwise — writing your will is a deeply meaningful act. It makes you pause, reflect on your life and destiny, and view death from a perspective you may not have considered before.
It’s more than just an idea — it’s real. You start to realize how near and unavoidable death is as you leave behind directions and words that shape how you’ll be remembered.
Every word is chosen with care, every sentence crafted with intention, because once you’re gone, that’s all that remains. Your family will read these words, and if you’re a leader, activist, elected official, editor, scholar or public figure, so will the world. So, write your will, act as your own executor and keep your shroud (kafan) by your bedside, so your children won’t have to search for it in their time of need.
Eventually, we realize that our legacy isn’t defined by the possessions we leave behind, but by the values, memories and love we’ve shared. A last will is often viewed as just a legal formality — a list of who gets the house, the savings and the cherished family treasures.
A last will can be a meaningful chance to heal old wounds, settle lingering debts, honor lifelong friendships and safeguard the legacy we hold dear. Still, many avoid making one, as if putting mortality into words could somehow bring it closer.
A will isn’t so much about death as it is about care. It’s about shielding the people we love from uncertainty, preventing conflicts and giving clear guidance on what to do if emergencies or unexpected situations happen.
We plan so much in life — our careers, marriages, homes and adventures — so why leave the final chapter unfinished? Writing a will isn’t gloomy; it’s a smart, caring act that brings a sense of order to an unpredictable world.
When my time comes, I hope to leave behind more than just my belongings. I want my story to be shared — the journey from Mombasa to Nantwich, England, then on to the United States, who I was, what I believed in, and how deeply I cherished the documents of our constitutional republic, along with the principles of liberty, justice for all and freedom of speech.
In the end, the most meaningful legacy we leave behind isn’t money, gold, diamonds or property. A last will is more like a final mirror of one’s character (akhlaq), humility and kindness (adab), family ties (silah rahm), self-purification (tazkiyah-e-nafs), and repentance (taubah).
This is a contributed opinion column. Mohammed Khaku is past president of Al Ahad Islamic Center in Allentown. The views expressed in this piece are those of its individual author(s), and should not be interpreted as reflecting the views of this publication. For more details on commentaries, read our guide to guest opinions at themorningcall.com/opinions.
