When Tāj al-Subkī, the son and student of the eminent jurist Taqī al-Dīn al-Subkī, was asked about Imam Nawawi, he said: “If I were to describe him, only a couplet of poetry would suffice.
It is something my father used to recite, often in tears.” And here is that story.
Taqī al-Dīn al-Subkī, having been appointed to the same post once held by Nawawi at Dār al-Ḥadīth, would go at night to the exact spot where Nawawi used to teach. He would kneel on the same old prayer mat—its fabric aged, but still bearing the name of its donor, Sultan al-Ashraf, who had endowed the school. Then, Subkī would lower his face onto that mat—onto the place where Imam Nawawi’s blessed feet once rested—and whisper: “This Dār al-Ḥadīth carries a beautiful history.
I soak this mat with tears, Longing to feel the warmth of the place Where Nawawi’s feet once stood.”
His love for Nawawi ran deeper than admiration—it was reverence.
On another occasion, Subkī was traveling on his mule when he saw an old man walking along the road. Subkī stopped, greeted him warmly, and as they spoke, he learned that the man had once seen Imam Nawawi in person.
Immediately, the great scholar dismounted from his mule, walked to the elder, took his hand, and kissed it. The old man, a humble nobody in the world’s eyes, was stunned.
Taqī al-Dīn said to him: “Please pray for me. And come, sit with me on my mule.”
The man hesitated.
But Subkī insisted: “No! You must ride with me. A man whose eyes have beheld Imam Nawawi—how can I ride in honor while he walks? That would be shame upon me.”
The world honored Imam Nawawi with love and awe. There was not a scholar of his time who did not praise him.
His beloved student, Ibn al-ʿAṭṭār, wrote: “My teacher followed the way of the earliest righteous generations.
His entire life was divided between knowledge and devotion— sometimes writing, sometimes teaching, sometimes in ṣalāh,
sometimes reciting Qur’an, sometimes in silent reflection, sometimes in preaching. That was his life.”
Shaykh Muḥammad al-Ikhmīmī said: “Muḥyī al-Dīn al-Nawawī followed the path of the Companions. In our age, I know no one else who walked as they did.”
Taqī al-Dīn al-Subkī himself proclaimed: “After the Tābiʿūn (those who followed the Companions), I know of no one who attained the greatness of Imam Nawawi. The blessings he received—none other has ever known such favor.”
The renowned historian Ṣalāḥ al-Dīn al-Ṣafadī wrote: “In knowledge, in worship, in asceticism, in piety— no one of his age was his equal.”
Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūṭī called him: “The standard of the saints.”
Tāj al-Subkī described him as: “The axis of his time, the spiritual secret amidst the people, the luminous man of the age.”
And Shaykh Ibn Farḥ summed up what made Nawawi unique: “He attained three ranks—each one of which, if achieved by any man, would cause caravans to flock to him from every direction of the earth:
First: immense knowledge paired with righteous action.
Second: total renunciation of worldly pleasures.
Third: courage in commanding right and forbidding wrong.”
Each of these alone makes a legacy. Imam Nawawi lived all three.
But no matter how many books we write, how many pages we turn, or verses we recite—to truly speak of Imam Nawawi is to overflow the inkpot.
As his dear student Ibn al-ʿAṭṭār once sighed: “I saw so much in my teacher. If I were to write it all down— No scroll would be large enough.”