A noble hadith from Imam Hadi (peace be upon him) states:
"Al-ʿItāb Miftāḥ al-Thiqāl..." – Complaining is the key to burdens."
Complaint (Arabic: ʿitāb) means to express dissatisfaction or reproach. Sometimes a person commits a real offense and deserves punishment—there is no debate in such cases. But at other times, the person does something inappropriate, though not necessarily a punishable offense. For example, they may have said something unnecessary or unpleasant—something better left unsaid. In these instances, the listener responds with a complaint: "Why did you do this?", "Why didn’t you do that?", "Why did you say that?", "Why did you go there?" or "Why didn’t you attend?"
Sometimes, the complainer already knows the excuse or reasoning, but still complains. Other times, they’re unaware of the reason—or there may not even be a valid excuse at all.
Frequent complaining gradually erodes love and affection. Over time, as complaints and reproaches accumulate, emotional closeness begins to fade. The more this happens—say five, then ten, then twenty times—the more the other person becomes emotionally distant and disengaged.
People differ in temperament: some are highly sensitive and withdraw even after minor complaints; others are more patient, but only to a limit.
When complaints build up, they become the "key to burdens" (thiqāl)"—a phrase Imam Hadi uses to describe how repeated reproaches weigh down relationships. What starts as sincere concern or constructive feedback can transform—unintentionally—into heaviness and resentment.
Just as virtues have "keys" or pathways leading to them, so too do vices. Some wrongs are major sins (ḥarām), while others are lesser but still spiritually harmful. Among these is anything that diminishes love and affection. While not always classified among the ḥarām, such acts weaken the bonds between hearts and must be avoided.
Decision-Making: The Starting Point of Moral Development
Making a firm decision is the beginning of self-discipline and ethical refinement. As a moral directive, one should resolve not to complain or reproach. Once a person makes this internal commitment, over time, the habit of complaining and reproaching naturally diminishes in their life.
Repetitive reproach and complaint gradually diminish love and affection, regardless of the relationship—be it with a spouse, child, neighbor, or close friend. As Imam Hadi (peace be upon him) noted, accumulated complaints eventually become “thiqāl” (burdens)—a heavy emotional weight.
What once was warmth and affection, through constant complaints, transforms into discomfort, distance, and even anger. What started as love may deteriorate into aversion.
The renowned reformer, Mirzā Muhammad Hasan Shirazi (may Allah bless his soul)—known for his leadership in the Tobacco Protest—was distinguished by his refusal to complain or reproach, not just in public life but even in his personal relationships. His demeanor was marked by grace, patience, and moral restraint with his family, students, colleagues, and friends alike.
A story is narrated about him:
A man was entrusted to deliver a letter from Mirzā Shirazi to another individual. Along the way, he was tempted by Satan and altered the contents of the letter, adding his own words. This act benefited him materially, and he felt secure in the assumption that no one knew what he had done.
Years passed, and one day, in a gathering attended by many people, this man was present. After the assembly ended and people began to leave, Mirzā Shirazi called him aside privately. He said:
“I do not speak out of complaint, but as a sincere counsel. What you did with my letter—I have overlooked it and forgiven you. But be careful not to do such a thing with others. They may not respond as I did; they may disgrace you and damage your reputation.”
It is said about the late Mirza Shirazi that he was never seen complaining or reproaching anyone, not even once. In biographies and accounts of his life, as well as in books about the lives of scholars, it has been mentioned that he never expressed reproach or complaint toward anyone. I read in one of the well-known books about the lives of Shia scholars and marājiʿ (sources of emulation) that the late Mujaddid Shirazi — may God’s mercy be upon him — was extremely beloved among the people, and after the Infallibles — peace be upon them all — no marjaʿ has reached such a level of popularity.
Complaining and reproach diminish affection and popularity, and that late scholar was able to completely remove complaining from his personal life and interactions with people. The fact that neither the people nor his students ever saw even a single instance of reproach or complaint from him is the reason behind all that love and affection.
Whether or not the author of that book exaggerated is not our concern; what matters is that this marjaʿ was known to never reproach or complain about anyone.
I myself saw one of the contemporary marājiʿ who was from the previous generation and a student of several disciples of the great Mirza Shirazi. He used to say: “At one point, I made a vow and firmly decided to abandon two things. One of them was to never complain about anyone.”
It is difficult for a person to decide not to complain. A human being interacts with a spouse, children, neighbors, friends, acquaintances, classmates, fellow travelers, and colleagues — and not complaining is a very challenging decision.
Complaint and Expectation Walk Side by Side in Diminishing Affection
He used to say that his second decision was not to expect anything from anyone. A person may stop complaining outwardly, but inwardly they may still carry expectations — and such expectations can cause inner pain. When a person lives among or interacts with others — and that includes thousands of people — they inevitably have expectations, whether big or small. But on the other hand, not all people meet those expectations.
So if someone decides not to complain, the unspoken expectation remains in their heart, quietly disturbing their peace of mind. It slowly and subtly affects their psyche and nervous system.
For example — just hypothetically — let’s say I show someone a great deal of respect. If they return that respect, fine. But if they don’t, I begin to feel disappointed and wonder: Why didn’t they return my respect? This is where expectation arises. According to the ethical teachings of religion, this is precisely the point where one should not give importance to such thoughts. Not only should I not dwell on it outwardly, I shouldn’t even let it occupy my mind. I should simply let it go.
A person who can live like this is so calm, at peace, and confident. Their mind and nerves remain undisturbed.
One must gradually make firm decisions — one by one — to embody such moral virtues and noble traits, and begin practicing them over time. Only then can one successfully live by them — or at least come close.
From Ethical Prohibition to Religious Obligation
These discussions are moral in nature and should be practiced within the framework of ethics. However, under certain conditions, they may take on a more serious character and become religious obligations — binding by Islamic law.
For example, the Holy Qur’an says:
“O you who believe, protect yourselves and your families from a Fire...”
(Surah At-Tahrim, 66:6)
In this verse, God commands that one must shield their family and those under their care from the punishment of Hell — and keep them away from committing forbidden acts. Sometimes, the means of fulfilling this duty might involve expressing concern or even complaining, in which case the complaint serves as a necessary tool and is therefore permissible. This is a secondary consideration (ʿunwān-i thānawī), and in such a context, it is not problematic.
But let’s say, hypothetically, I greet someone with salām and they don’t return my greeting. Now, according to our previous discussion, should I protest and say, “Why didn’t you respond? Why didn’t you meet my expectation?”
Sometimes, such a protest can be more than personal — it can be a moral or even religious duty. (Let us leave aside the concept of enjoining good and forbidding wrong — that’s a separate category altogether.)
A True Friend Should Not Complain About Their Friend
It has become a common saying — even a proverb — that “a friend should complain to a friend.” But it seems that this actually reflects a misunderstanding. A true friend should not complain about their friend.
At the very least, when someone complains once, it often leads to further complaints at other times and in other places. So instead of complaining, one should proceed with advice. Giving advice is something entirely different and should not be confused with complaining.
In complaining — especially when it becomes frequent and the complainer sees no issue with repeating the same complaints — the love and affection in the heart of the other person gradually begins to fade. Eventually, it can reach the point where there is no longer any trace of heartfelt friendship left.
Why should it come to this? Why should complaints be repeated to the extent that they even disturb the one who makes them?
From Moral Blame to Religious Prohibition
All of this behavior falls into the category of wrongdoing and moral shortcomings. Sometimes, it can even rise to the level of religiously forbidden acts (ḥarām) — though not always. Even when not considered religiously prohibited, such behavior is inherently negative and undesirable. It is a form of poor conduct, bad character, and moral failure. In terms of ethics, social interaction, and under the light of religious teachings, it is considered a vice.
The Role of Determination in Spiritual Growth
The human soul needs resolution, focus, and discipline in order to be refined — and through such care and self-cultivation, one gains in both this world and the Hereafter.
In this world, spiritual discipline leads to a healthier society. Those who live and interact with us benefit from peace and well-being. That means the person themselves experiences worldly goodness and, through right conduct and sound character, finds the path of happiness. At the same time, others around them also find some level of peace and contentment.
And in the Hereafter, this discipline shields both the person and those around them from spiritual harm. In fact, it’s possible that through such self-purification, one may help secure the Hereafter of others as well.
One of the most frequently emphasized teachings in our ethical traditions — and a profound truth that the Infallibles (peace be upon them) strongly stressed in matters of morality and social conduct — is the importance of practical, behavior-based ethics. That is, instead of relying on words, one should teach and guide through actions and deeds.
A person’s actions have a fragrance, much like a flower that, along with its beauty, gives off a pleasant and delightful scent.
Good actions and noble behavior are like a beautiful flower — they have a fragrance that draws others in. Conversely, bad behavior emits a foul odor, like decay or infection, that pushes people away. The better a person’s actions, the more effective they are in attracting hearts.
The influence of good deeds on others depends on the receptivity and readiness of those individuals. A person who has inner capacity, value, and openness will absorb more from the good behavior of others.
When this happens, a person benefits from goodness and well-being themselves, while also radiating it to others around them. They become beloved, admired in people’s hearts, and in return, help others become more beloved too.
It is written in the biography of the great Mirza Shirazi (may God have mercy on him) that he passed away on the 24th of Shaʿbān. His funeral and burial took place at the end of the month or in early Ramadan.
He died in Samarra, and his body was carried on the shoulders of the people all the way to Karbala and Najaf.
At that time, there were no vehicles. Most pilgrims walked to Karbala on foot. A strong and fast walker would take three days from Samarra to Kadhimayn, another three days from Kadhimayn to Karbala, and two to three more days from Karbala to Najaf — altogether about eight to nine days of continuous walking.
Throughout this long, difficult journey, Mirza Shirazi’s body was carried on the shoulders of devoted, loving people. Along the way, there were countless hardships — wind, rain, cold, heat, dust, fatigue — but none of these could stop the faithful followers. Wherever the procession passed through towns and villages, people came out with love, sorrow, and deep respect to receive the body and carry it forward.
The body was taken from Samarra to Kadhimayn, then to Karbala, and finally to the sacred city of Najaf. A massive crowd joined the procession. And the further it went, the larger and more heartfelt the crowd became. Even people from distant areas rushed to join, hoping not to miss the spiritual reward of attending the funeral and expressing their love and loyalty to the late scholar.
One must ask: Why did these people so passionately follow the funeral?
Were they being paid?
Was there any worldly incentive other than love and devotion?
No — it was purely love that moved them to carry his body with such dignity and honor, all the way to Najaf.
Let us remember that this was the same Mirza Shirazi who had vowed never to complain about anyone — and he remained true to that vow. Let us also remember that complaining and blaming, if left unchecked, can gradually lead to heavy spiritual burdens and grave sins.
It should not go unmentioned that the late Shaykh Agha Bozorg Tehrani, the esteemed author of the monumental work Al-Dharīʿah, was one of those who accompanied the funeral of his teacher, the late Mirza Shirazi, from the very beginning of the journey to its end. He recorded all the details of that long but awe-inspiring and sorrowful journey, which was filled with love and devotion.
It was he who documented the unprecedented reception and affection shown by the tribes, clans, and villages along the route.
The love that Mirza Shirazi had cultivated in the hearts of the people, the devotion that the masses had toward this great scholar, the high resolve and noble character he had attained, and his ability to train his soul — all of it stemmed from a conscious decision he had made.
He had resolved that in every circumstance, and at all times, he would be the master of his own self — never allowing himself to complain or express grievances.
Through his behavior, he had become a moral teacher; through his conduct and kind character, he had found a place deep in people’s hearts.
Truly, if a person makes a firm decision, they can achieve success.
May God Almighty grant us all the divine success (tawfīq)... and blessings and peace be upon Muhammad and his pure family.
