Those of us who can deliver eloquent religious sermons, teach reasonably well, write a little, author a few books or religious texts, or regularly engage in some form of spiritual discipline and self-struggle (*riyadah* and *mujahadah*) often find ourselves surrounded by admirers, flatterers, and devoted followers.
There is nothing inherently objectionable about this. The problem begins when these admirers start portraying us as far more accomplished than we actually are.
They turn one person into an *Allamah* (a distinguished scholar), another into an “internationally renowned author, researcher, and thinker,” someone else into a *Shaykh al-Hadith* (a senior Hadith scholar) or *Shaykh al-Islam*. Another is hailed as “the greatest scholar, Hadith expert, and jurist of the age,” a *Mujaddid of the Era* (a renewer of the faith), a *Mufti-e-Azam* (a supreme or pre-eminent mufti), a *Faqih al-Millah* (a jurist of the Muslim community), an *Arif Billah* (one who possesses deep spiritual knowledge of Allah), a *Qutb of the Age* (a supreme spiritual figure), or a *Mufassir of the Qur'an* (an exegete of the Qur'an). Yet another becomes an “international Islamic scholar”!
Even more dangerous is what happens when these grand titles cease to be merely the language of our admirers and gradually become part of our own self-perception.
Yesterday, we felt embarrassed by such praise. Today, we begin to regard it as an accurate description of who we are.
Gradually, self-satisfaction takes the place of self-criticism, arrogance replaces humility, and instead of assessing our actual competence, we begin measuring our worth by the echoes of other people's praise.
This transformation eventually becomes visible in our behaviour—in the way we speak, walk, dress, present ourselves, and even maintain our distance from others.
The person may not have changed much in reality. Yet the aura of greatness constructed around him gradually convinces him that he has genuinely attained the exalted stature attributed to him.
This is where a flatterer's praise can become a source of harm rather than benefit.
People can often dismiss criticism from their adversaries with relative ease. But exaggerated praise from those close to them can give legitimacy to their self-deception.
We gradually distance ourselves from those who could point out our mistakes, while finding comfort in the company of those who shower us with praise at every turn.
Eventually, we become prisoners of the very image of greatness that the people around us have constructed.
At that point, the question is no longer, “How much do I actually know, how much do I truly understand, and how much do I practise of what I know?”
Instead, the question becomes, “What titles do people give me? What grand distinctions do they bestow upon me?”
Perhaps this is why excessive praise can sometimes be more dangerous than humiliation.
Humiliation may compel a person to engage in self-examination. Unwarranted praise, however, can hold up a mirror that reflects an image far grander than the person's actual stature.
And the greatest danger is that, eventually, the person begins to mistake that reflection for his true self.
The mirror no longer shows him who he really is. Instead, it presents a fabricated story about who he is—and, in the end, he becomes the most devoted believer in that story himself.