Today I heard a story I would like to share with you brothers and sisters:
In the hallowed halls of the Najaf seminary, where the whispers of knowledge and piety filled the air, a young student-scholar stood before an audience of learned men. Among them sat the revered Ayatollah Mohsen Hakim, a towering figure of wisdom and authority.
The young man, eager to impress, spoke with confidence, presenting his arguments with eloquence. Then, with a boldness that surprised many, he concluded, “And my opinion is—”
Before he could finish, the voice of Ayatollah Hakim thundered through the room:
“فض الله فاك!”
The words struck like lightning. The phrase, difficult to translate precisely, carried the weight of divine rebuke—”May God destroy your mouth!” or “May God silence you!”
The room fell into stunned silence. The Ayatollah then continued, his tone sharp with admonishment- On what basis do you dare present your opinion when you are not even a mujtahid?
The young scholar stood frozen, realizing the gravity of his error. In the hierarchy of Islamic scholarship, only a mujtahid—a jurist qualified to derive independent legal rulings—could rightfully assert personal opinions in matters of law. His audacity had overstepped the bounds of his station.
The lesson was clear: Knowledge demands humility, and authority is not claimed—it is earned.
