The rich man is not the one who has a lot, but the one who has enough

As a modern Muslim and a student of Islamic tradition, I find this statement to be one of the most quietly revolutionary truths of our time. Islam does not condemn wealth, nor does it romanticize poverty. Instead, it reframes richness as contentment—qana’ah—a state where the heart is settled, even if the hands hold little.

A Timeless Principle in Islamic History

The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ lived this principle with clarity and dignity. At times, days would pass in his household without a cooked meal, yet his heart was full of gratitude. He ﷺ taught that true wealth is not abundance of possessions, but abundance of the soul. Many of the Companions embodied this balance: some were materially wealthy, like ‘Abdur Rahman ibn ‘Awf, yet lived simply and gave generously; others owned almost nothing, yet carried themselves with honor and trust in Allah.

Islamic history shows us that having enough is not a number—it is a relationship with dunya (this world). When the world is in your hand and not your heart, you are rich.

Modern Richness in

New York

In modern-day New York, wealth is often measured in speed, scale, and spectacle. Skyscrapers rise, luxury apartments overlook Central Park, and success is worn visibly. Yet alongside this, you find individuals earning six figures who feel perpetually anxious—always chasing the next promotion, the bigger home, the better lifestyle.

At the same time, there are Muslim families in modest apartments in Queens or Brooklyn who budget carefully, pray together, eat simple meals, and give sadaqah consistently. They may not have excess, but they have enough: enough food, enough love, enough faith. Their evenings are not consumed by comparison but by presence. In that sufficiency, there is peace—and that peace is a form of wealth no skyline can buy.

Contentment Tested in

Brierfield

Brierfield is often seen as a place where life is slower and expectations are simpler. Many people live within modest means, value family and faith, and find comfort in routine. Yet even here, contentment is not guaranteed.

Comparison quietly enters through social circles, family gatherings, and social media. A neighbor’s larger home, a relative’s business success, or a friend’s lifestyle abroad can plant seeds of dissatisfaction. Some who once felt they had “enough” begin to feel behind, even though their needs are met and their lives are stable.

Islam warns us of this very trap. The heart does not become restless because of lack, but because of comparison. When one measures their blessings against those who appear to have more, qana’ah slips away. This is why the Prophet ﷺ advised us to look at those who have less in worldly matters, so we do not belittle the blessings Allah has already placed in our lives.

In Brierfield, as in New York, the struggle is the same: not scarcity, but the quiet erosion of gratitude when we forget to measure life by sufficiency rather than status.

Enough as an Act of Resistance

In a world that constantly tells us we are lacking, choosing “enough” is an act of spiritual resistance. Islam teaches us that the nafs is never satisfied—but the ruh (soul) is. When we define richness by enough, we reclaim our autonomy from consumerism, comparison, and chronic dissatisfaction.

A rich man, then, is not one with overflowing accounts, but one whose sleep is not disturbed by envy, whose prayers are not rushed by greed, and whose gratitude outpaces his desires.

Conclusion

From the simplicity of prophetic life, to the relentless pace of New York, to the quiet streets of Brierfield, the lesson remains unchanged: true richness is sufficiency with gratitude. Wealth may vary by place and time, but contentment is always a choice of the heart.

May Allah grant us hearts that recognize “enough” when we have it, protect us from harmful comparison, and make us among those whose richness is felt most deeply in their souls.