On the morning of Saturday, June 9,1437, the entire community, across all its diverse segments, was struck by grief at the loss of our father, Sheikh Sulaiman bin Muhammad Al-Rashid, in the city of Dammam. What can my pen possibly write about a man whom I accompanied for more than twenty years—his feet in the dust and his noble aspirations reaching the heavens? He offered advice to everyone, whether he knew them or not, On the day of his funeral, people flocked to the Imam Faisal bin Turki Mosque, and news of his passing spread like rain driven by the wind. People rushed to his home to offer condolences to his children, and at the cemetery, everyone consoled one another—for in his loss, everyone is grieved: the wealthy and the poor, as well as volunteers and business leaders.
I knew him; he was not swayed by the world’s glamour. Despite his wealth, he was modest in his mode of transportation and his attire. Even his dining table—which was set for a number of people—was always the same size, regardless of the number of guests.
He fasted on Mondays and Thursdays throughout the year and walked to Friday prayers on foot, believing in the great reward, He was constantly in touch with me, asking about the condition of the poor in various regions; if I mentioned a country suffering from greater poverty, he would instruct me to provide relief to them. He was an expert in economics and politics; he stood with Gaza in its ordeal—and its entire history has been one of ordeals—and he stood with Iraq in its ordeal. He went personally to Indonesia during the tsunami and spent half a month providing relief to those in distress; when he arrived in Riyadh, he was so exhausted that he collapsed at the airport and was admitted to the hospital.
He stood with Kashmir during the earthquake, traveling to Pakistan himself to secure tents for the victims; he stood with Yemen in its time of need, providing aid by securing hundreds of trucks loaded with dates; He loved orphans and providing for them; so much so that one day he called me and said, "I saw a building in Indonesia intended for orphans, but it’s abandoned. Find the person in charge—I want to buy it, house orphans there, and provide for them." He would always talk to me about sponsoring orphans. He witnessed the plight of Muslims in Tal Afar during the U.S. occupation of Iraq, when they were expelled from Iraq and denied entry into Syria. He saw them crying on a news channel, and that morning he told me, "I didn’t sleep last night—I’m afraid my Lord will ask me about them."
He was a man who had no interest in leisure; he spent all his time working. One day I told him, «I have an engagement at the beach in the same Eastern Province, and I’d like you to come with me.» He replied, "In my fifty years in this region, I’ve only ever seen the sea from an airplane."
He runs his office himself, manages his own budget, and pays his zakat himself. When he’s healthy, he drives his own car. I’ve ridden with him many times as he drove to the office, and one day he lent me his car to drive to the airport, but it wouldn’t start..
He would express his opinion frankly, without showing favoritism to anyone, no matter who they were. As for endowments, he is deeply involved and passionate about them. One of his admirable qualities is that he treats everyone equally, without discriminating based on their country of origin. He was the one who purchased the land and the building of the Imam Muhammad ibn Abdul-Wahhab Mosque in Buraydah, along with its annexes, in 1420 at a cost of thirty-sixthirty-six million, built to the latest standards. When work began, he gave me two instructions. The first was: “Name the mosque the Al-Qassim Mosque.” I asked, “Why?” He replied, “Because it belongs to the people of Al-Qassim in general.” I said, “It has another name, Muhammad ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab, and this one is for the entire Islamic world.” He said, “You are right…” Then he built another mosque in Dammam and named it Muhammad ibn Abdul-Wahhab, and likewise another, and another, and another. The second instruction was: “Do not agree to work with anyone but a strong contractor, for a weak one will cause you seventy problems before the project is finished.” I understood his advice and acted on his instructions. A man in the field of commerce who is pious and scrupulous about his earnings—even when a major business opportunity presents itself—will pass it up due to his doubts about its source.
A man partnered with someone on a project, and after six months, the partner told him, “Your profit is this much.” He replied, “How can there be a profit when the money is still in the bank? Give me back my principal, and the profit is yours.” I offered him a plot of land measuring 23 million square meters that had been purchased in a certain area at a low price per square meter. He went to inspect it and saw a salt deposit in the middle of it, so he said, “I don’t want the land.” They asked, “Why?” He replied, “Because it’s a place where salt is extracted. By God, I will not let a poor person stand before the Lord of the Worlds and say, ‘Ibn Rashid took away my source of livelihood because people are partners in three things, one of which is salt.’”
As for the trait that revealed the secret behind people’s attraction to him and their love for him, it was his desire to keep his work hidden. So one day I told him, “I’ll write about the project at Sheikh Suleiman’s expense,” and he said, “Be careful—don’t do what I did, for He who I did it for already knows.”
He attended the opening of the Imam Muhammad ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab Mosque and sat in the third row, away from the spotlight, wishing to remain inconspicuous. so I asked him to move up to the first row, but he refused. I insisted, and he agreed to move to the first row on the condition that I not say a single word about him or mention that he was the one who built the project. I agreed to that, so he moved forward, and afterward he sat in the inner section with the Prince and Sheikh Suleiman Al-Rajhi. He said to the Prince: “We spend for the sake of Allah.” Then, when he saw the crowds rushing to greet him and kiss his head, he said to me, “This rush of people is strange.” I replied, “You built a house for Him—and it is Allah who has drawn them to you.” There is much more to say about him, but let us be content with what fits around the neck.May Allah have vast mercy on Sheikh Sulaiman Al-Rashid and grant him the highest paradise.
