I still remember that day — the dusty heat, the nervous waiting, and the ache in my chest. You won’t find my name in any surah, but I was one of the helpers from the Children of Israel. I followed Prophet Musa — that’s the Prophet Moses who led us out of Egypt — and I had deep respect for his brother Harun, peace be upon them both. Harun was gentle, wise, and full of love for the people. I thought things would be fine when Musa left us and Harun stayed behind. I was wrong.
It began when Musa went up Mount Sinai to speak with Allah. He told us he would be gone for forty days. I watched him leave, his figure disappearing into the distance, and I prayed Allah would keep him safe. Days passed. Then weeks. People grew nervous. “Where is Musa?” they asked. “Has he left us forever?” I didn’t know what to say.
That’s when it happened.
A man named Samiri gathered some people and whispered, “We can make something better. A god you can see with your own eyes.” And he tricked many. He asked them to gather their gold — earrings, bracelets — and he shaped it into a calf. But not just a statue. He used something strange, some dust he claimed was special, and the calf made a sound like a living thing.
The people gasped and shouted with joy. “This is our god!” they said. “This is who we should worship!”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I looked to Harun with fear. What would he do?
Harun stood before them. His eyes filled with pain, but also with love. “O my people,” he said, “you are being tested. Your true Lord is the Most Merciful. Follow me and do not obey the mischief-makers.”
But they didn’t listen.
Some pushed him aside. Others threatened him. Harun didn’t fight them. He feared they would tear the people apart if he pushed too hard. He waited with patience, praying Musa would return quickly.
I was angry at first. Why didn’t Harun break the calf? Why didn’t he stop them? But then I looked closer. Harun’s hands trembled with sorrow. He fasted every day. He wept in prayer every night. He had not given up on us, even though most of us had betrayed the truth.
Then Musa returned.
I will never forget the fire in his eyes when he saw the people dancing around the golden calf. He threw down the tablets Allah had given him and seized Harun, grabbing him by his beard and head. I had never seen Musa so sad — and so angered by our sin.
But Harun begged, “O son of my mother, don’t grab me! I feared if I pushed them, they would become divided and lost forever!”
Musa let him go. He saw the pain in Harun's eyes. Then, Musa turned to Allah and asked forgiveness for both of them.
I wept that day. For what we had done. For how Harun had suffered, holding our people together with kindness while we shattered the commands of Allah.
Some say Harun died not long after that, on a mountain where Allah took his soul in peace.
Now, whenever people speak of strength, I remember Harun. Not the strength to fight — but the strength to wait, to weep, and to never give up on those you love.
Story Note: Inspired by Surah Al-A'raf (7:142) and classical Islamic sources including Tafsir Ibn Kathir.
I still remember that day — the dusty heat, the nervous waiting, and the ache in my chest. You won’t find my name in any surah, but I was one of the helpers from the Children of Israel. I followed Prophet Musa — that’s the Prophet Moses who led us out of Egypt — and I had deep respect for his brother Harun, peace be upon them both. Harun was gentle, wise, and full of love for the people. I thought things would be fine when Musa left us and Harun stayed behind. I was wrong.
It began when Musa went up Mount Sinai to speak with Allah. He told us he would be gone for forty days. I watched him leave, his figure disappearing into the distance, and I prayed Allah would keep him safe. Days passed. Then weeks. People grew nervous. “Where is Musa?” they asked. “Has he left us forever?” I didn’t know what to say.
That’s when it happened.
A man named Samiri gathered some people and whispered, “We can make something better. A god you can see with your own eyes.” And he tricked many. He asked them to gather their gold — earrings, bracelets — and he shaped it into a calf. But not just a statue. He used something strange, some dust he claimed was special, and the calf made a sound like a living thing.
The people gasped and shouted with joy. “This is our god!” they said. “This is who we should worship!”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I looked to Harun with fear. What would he do?
Harun stood before them. His eyes filled with pain, but also with love. “O my people,” he said, “you are being tested. Your true Lord is the Most Merciful. Follow me and do not obey the mischief-makers.”
But they didn’t listen.
Some pushed him aside. Others threatened him. Harun didn’t fight them. He feared they would tear the people apart if he pushed too hard. He waited with patience, praying Musa would return quickly.
I was angry at first. Why didn’t Harun break the calf? Why didn’t he stop them? But then I looked closer. Harun’s hands trembled with sorrow. He fasted every day. He wept in prayer every night. He had not given up on us, even though most of us had betrayed the truth.
Then Musa returned.
I will never forget the fire in his eyes when he saw the people dancing around the golden calf. He threw down the tablets Allah had given him and seized Harun, grabbing him by his beard and head. I had never seen Musa so sad — and so angered by our sin.
But Harun begged, “O son of my mother, don’t grab me! I feared if I pushed them, they would become divided and lost forever!”
Musa let him go. He saw the pain in Harun's eyes. Then, Musa turned to Allah and asked forgiveness for both of them.
I wept that day. For what we had done. For how Harun had suffered, holding our people together with kindness while we shattered the commands of Allah.
Some say Harun died not long after that, on a mountain where Allah took his soul in peace.
Now, whenever people speak of strength, I remember Harun. Not the strength to fight — but the strength to wait, to weep, and to never give up on those you love.
Story Note: Inspired by Surah Al-A'raf (7:142) and classical Islamic sources including Tafsir Ibn Kathir.
