Abstract

This article explores the life and Qurʾanic scholarship of Sayyidah Nusrat Beygum Amin (1895–1983), also known as Banu Amin, a pioneering female mujtahidah and one of the most prominent female scholars in 20th-century Iran. It centers on her magnum opus, Makhzan al-ʿIrfān [Treasury of Mysticism], a fifteen-volume Qurʾanic exegesis written in Persian. The article  culminates in an English translation of her reflective and spiritually charged introduction. The article highlights Banu Amin’s intellectual humility, her methodological caution against tafsīr bi’l-ra’y (interpretation based on personal opinion), and her firm commitment to deriving meaning through the light of wilāyah (divine guardianship) of the Prophet and the Ahl al-Bayt. She emphasizes the Qurʾan’s multilayered nature—its apparent (ẓāhir) and hidden (bāṭin) meanings—and its role as a legislative, metaphysical, and eschatological guide. The Qurʾan, in her view, is a living reality that intercedes in the afterlife and transforms in form across realms of existence. This translation represents the first time that her work has been translated into English. 

Keywords: Banu Amin, Makhzan al-ʿIrfān, female mujtahidah, Shiʿi exegesis, tafsīr bi’l-ra’y, spiritual commentary, Ahl al-Bayt, divine guidance

Sayyidah Nusrat Beygum Amin’s (b. 1895, d. 1983) grave in Isfahan, located in the Takht-i Fulad cemetery, is a monument shaped like a headscarf or hijab.((Nāhīd Ṭayyibī, Zindigānī-yi bānū-yi Irānī. Isfahan: Intishārāt-i Gulbahār, 1383 Sh. [2004])) This symbolic shrine embodies many of the values she espoused during her lifetime—particularly the ideals of anonymity and modesty in pursuit of divine proximity.

Her education began at a young age, and she reached the level of ijtihād at the age of forty, primarily through private lessons conducted in her home. One of her main teachers was Sayyid ʿAlī Najafābādī.((Nāhīd Ṭayyibī, Zindigānī-yi bānū-yi Irānī. Isfahan: Intishārāt-i Gulbahār, 1383 Sh. [2004])) She received ijāzah for ijtihād (literally, “permission,” referring to a formal scholarly endorsement of her religious expertise) from several notable mujtahids, including Muhammad Kāẓim Shīrāzī and ʿAbd al-Karīm Hāʾirī Yazdī. She also granted ijāzah to a number of scholars, most notably Āyatullāh Marʿashī Najafī.

Mujtahidah Amin gained recognition in scholarly circles especially after the publication of her first book, al-Arbaʿīn al-Hāshimiyyah, a collection and commentary on forty aḥādīth written in Arabic. Many prominent scholars sought audiences with her in Isfahan, including figures such as Shahīd Muṭahharī and ʿAllāmah Ṭabāṭabāʾī. During her meeting with ʿAllāmah and his wife, it is reported that they engaged in deep discussions on various verses of the Qurʾan for over two hours((Nāhīd Ṭayyibī, Zindigānī-yi bānū-yi Irānī. Isfahan: Intishārāt-i Gulbahār, 1383 Sh. [2004])).

Having lived through the Pahlavi era, she witnessed a period in which secularism was pervasive in Iran, and hijab was discouraged or even banned at times.((Reza Shah’s 1936 Kashf-i ḥijāb decree banned the hijab as part of a broader state-led modernization project, enforced through police action that forcibly unveiled women in public, aiming to erase Islamic symbols from the national image and align Iran with Western norms. See Janet Afary, The Iranian Constitutional Revolution, 1906–1911: Grassroots Democracy, Social Democracy, and the Origins of Feminism (New York: Columbia University Press, 1998), 203.)) Despite these political and social pressures, Mujtahidah Amin remained committed to religious and social reform. She established two all-female educational institutions: a girls’ high school and the first female ḥawzah (seminary).((Tayyibi)) 

Although she authored and published more than ten books, she chose to do so under the pen name Bānū-yi Īrānī—meaning “An Iranian Woman.” Her life clearly reflects a commitment to the empowerment and education of women, yet she deliberately avoided personal acclaim and lived modestly, despite coming from a family of immense wealth.((Fars News Agency, “Mujtahid Who Founded the First Women’s Seminary,” Fars News, accessed May 2, 2025, https://farsnews.ir/FarsNews/1547473219000941332/%D9%85%D8%AC%D8%AA%D9%87%D8%AF%DB%8C-%DA%A9%D9%87-%D8%A7%D9%88%D9%84%DB%8C%D9%86-%D8%AD%D9%88%D8%B2%D9%87-%D8%B9%D9%84%D9%85%DB%8C%D9%87-%D8%B2%D9%86%D8%A7%D9%86%D9%87-%D8%B1%D8%A7-%D8%AA%D8%A7%D8%B3%DB%8C%D8%B3-%DA%A9%D8%B1%D8%AF?lang=en)) 

While some attention has been paid to her biography and achievements in English((See: Tayyebeh Cheraghi, “Lady Nusrat Beygum Amin,” Message of Thaqalayn 14, no. 3 (Autumn 2012): 109–130. and Mirjam Künkler and Roja Fazaeli, “The Life of Two Mujtahidahs: Female Religious Authority in Twentieth-Century Iran,” in Women, Leadership and Mosques, edited by Masooda Bano and Hilary Kalmbach, 127–160. Leiden: Brill, 2011.)) (and much more in Persian), very little work has been done to translate or introduce her writings to an English-speaking audience. After exploring sections of Makhzan al-ʿIrfān and teaching them in my tafsīr classes, I decided to present parts of her work to highlight the humility and beauty with which she approaches the Qurʾan.

What follows is a translation of her introduction to Makhzan al-ʿIrfān [Treasury of Mysticism], edited by ʿĀlimah Asmāʾ S. Rashed.((The original Farsi reference for this translation is as follows: Banu Amin, Makhzan al-‘Irfān dar Tafsīr-i Qurʾan, 15 vols. (Isfahan: Intishārāt-i Gulbahār, 1389 Sh./2010), accessed May 2, 2025, https://www.ghbook.ir/index.php?option=com_dbook&task=viewbook&book_id=10328&lang=fa)) This text introduces a deeply spiritual and intellectual approach to understanding the Qurʾan, emphasizing the importance of humility, sincerity, and divine guidance in its interpretation. In this introduction, Mujtahidah Banu Amin reflects on her personal journey and the motivations behind writing the fifteen-volume tafsīr, which was published in 1982, just a year before her passing. Despite her scholarly achievements, she describes her humility before God as one of the internal obstacles she faced in composing this monumental work.  She then reflects on the inner struggle between the desire to write Qurʾanic commentary and the fear of misinterpretation, ultimately choosing to offer a literal translation supplemented by commentary on clear verses [muḥkamāt]. She writes:

“I only sought that a drop from the vast ocean of divine grace might reach the palate of my soul. And [that I would] receive a share of this harvest of kindness and pick a flower from this divine garden and perfume my impure soul.”

After a synopsis of her journey in writing the tafsīr, she discusses her approach to the Qurʾan, which she presents as a comprehensive, divinely-revealed guide for human life, containing layers of meaning—both apparent and hidden—that demand reflection. But she also cautions against personal speculation. True understanding,  she argues, must be sought through the light of wilāyah—the guardianship of the Prophet and his purified household who alone possess knowledge of the Qurʾan’s deeper realities. The work underscores the Qurʾan’s multi-dimensional nature: as guidance, legislation, intercessor, and spiritual companion across the stages of existence. Through narrations from the Ahl al-Bayt and the Prophet, the text also highlights the Qurʾan’s unique metaphysical presence in the afterlife, reinforcing the need to engage with it not merely as a text, but as a living, divine reality.

In the Name of Allah, the Most Merciful, the Most Compassionate

فَبَشِّرْ عِبَادِ ‎١٧‏ الَّذِينَ يَسْتَمِعُونَ الْقَوْلَ فَيَتَّبِعُونَ أَحْسَنَهُ ۚ

“So give good news to My servants who listen to the word [of Allah] and follow the best of it.”  39:17-18

إِنَّ فِي ذَٰلِكَ لَذِكْرَىٰ لِمَن كَانَ لَهُ قَلْبٌ أَوْ أَلْقَى السَّمْعَ وَهُوَ شَهِيدٌ ‎٣٧

“There is indeed an admonition in that for one who has a heart, or gives ear, being attentive.”  50:37

1. Introduction to the Book and Useful Reminders

O Allah, “Open my breast for me. Make my task easy for me.” 20:25-26

For some time now, I would occasionally think about writing a brief commentary of the Qurʾan—drawing from the words of the infallibles (peace be upon them) and gathering insights from the statements of the exegetes—hoping that perhaps I might be considered among those who ponder and interpret the Qurʾan.

But unfortunately, I perceived obstacles in my way, rendering this hazardous path not only difficult but arduous. On the one hand, I was held back by the weakness of my soul and my lowliness. On the other, God’s prohibitions against personal interpretation of the Qurʾan restrained me and I dared not enter that terrifying domain. Yet the sense of seeking would not let me rest.

For a time, I was stuck between fear and hope. Sometimes the desire to pursue this path would urge me forward, but other times fear and cowardice would take over, and I would fall into despair.

“O fly! The Simurgh’s domain is no place for you—
You parade yourself and cause us trouble profound.”((Hafez. Diwan. Ghazal #449, “Ay ke mahjuri-yi ‘ushshaq rawa mi-dari“. Editor’s Note: The “simurgh” refers to a mystical bird, somewhat comparable to the phoenix in Western mythology. It represents the mysterious king of birds due to its majesty, benevolence, and beauty.))

However, after I gave up on the idea of writing a full exegesis, considering that “what is feasible is not invalidated by what is difficult,” I decided to extract from the luminous teachings of the Ahl al-Bayt and limit myself to a literal translation of the verses—offering explanations for some of the decisive (muḥkamāt) verses, and avoiding discussion of the ambiguous (mutashābih) ones.

And I ask the scholars and experts of exegesis that if they find any mistakes or errors, to correct them with their wisdom and knowledge, refrain from undue criticism, interpret it correctly, and view it with benevolent consideration. 

And with a tongue of neediness, I beseech the Source of All-Sufficiency (God), pleading that if any error or mistake has appeared in this [work], to pardon me through His Godly generosity and forgiveness and not subject me to reproach or wrath. With my limited intellect and inadequate expression. I would never claim to be able to write a perfect commentary—I only sought a drop from the vast ocean of divine grace to reach the palate of my soul. [And I beseech Him to] receive a share of this harvest of kindness and pick a flower from this divine garden and perfume my impure soul. 

It is important to know that the Glorious Qurʾan is a mighty Word revealed from the source of Divinity. The realities contained in it are beyond the grasp of the small human mind, and are especially meant for the one who was directly addressed by it (the Prophet), and after him, it is transferred to his successors.

The Qurʾan is not like the conversations or letters people exchange with each other. Although it says, “Nor anything fresh or withered but it is in a manifest Book,” [Quran 6:59] much of the content regarding Islamic rulings and laws has been alluded to or rather, expressed in a symbolic manner.

Indeed, this is how great figures should speak to ordinary people, conveying greatly beneficial meanings through brief expressions. Notice how when a king writes a letter to one of his representatives, he often conveys most of the content in a complicated and cryptic manner—where the words carry profound meaning yet appear brief and concise on the surface.

If all the details and characteristics of the conditions of the acts of worship, transactions, penalties, and so on were explained in full, the Qurʾan would lose its miraculous nature, eloquence, and rhetoric and become like any ordinary detailed book. In fact, it would have to be many volumes long. That’s why the Qurʾan includes so much meaning in a single concise word—making it both a miracle and a legislative book.

 “Nor anything fresh or withered but it is in a manifest Book.” Here, the Manifest Book (kitābin mubīn) has been interpreted to mean the Qurʾan.

In al-Kāfī, Imam Ja‘far al-Sadiq (peace be upon him) says:

 “God has made the Qurʾan a clarification of everything. And by Allah, He has not left out anything that the people need, except that He revealed it in the Qurʾan, and the Prophet (peace be upon him and his household) explained it.”

Another hadith says: “There is nothing that two people disagree about except that its instruction and ruling is found in the Qurʾan.”

In some narrations in al-Kāfī, it is reported that: 

“The Prophet (peace be upon him and his household) forbade excessive chatter and ruining wealth.” Someone asked, “O Messenger of Allah, where is that in the Qurʾan?” He replied with the verse: “There is no good in much of their secret talks, excepting him who enjoins charity or what is right or reconciliation between people.”  [Quran 4:114]

And he also said: “And do not give away your property which Allah has made for you a (means of) support to the weak of understanding” [Quran 4:5]

2. Some Virtues of the Glorious Qurʾan

The fundamental mission of prophets is to acquaint the masses with their duties of worship, the path toward the Divine Source, familiarity with the spiritual realm and becoming aware of their social and individual responsibilities. The Holy Qurʾan serves as a guide and comprehensive program that leads humanity toward happiness and then teaches them the path of attaining virtue and salvation. 

The Qurʾan is the cure for every illness. Allah the Exalted says: “We send down in the Quran that which is a cure and mercy for the faithful; and it increases the wrongdoers only in loss.” [Quran 17:82] 

The Qurʾan is a medicine for both physical and spiritual diseases. It outlines the instructions for human life from its beginning to its end in the best possible way.

By acting upon the teachings of the Qurʾan, a strong bond is formed between the human being and his Creator. The Qurʾan is the divine firm rope (ʿurwat al-wuthqā)—whoever clings to it is protected from every danger. The Qurʾan is Allah’s strong rope (ḥablallāh al-matīn) as the verse says: “Hold fast, all together, to Allah’s cord, and do not be divided.” [Quran 3:103] 

It is the cord that stretches from God to creation. In the words of the Prophet (peace be upon him and his household), the Qurʾan is the Greater Weight (thiql akbar). In a well-known hadith, the Prophet states: “I am leaving among you two weighty things: the Book of Allah and my family (ʿitrah). If you hold on to both of them, you will never go astray.”

When asked what these two weighty things are, the Prophet replied:

“The Book of Allah is the Greater Weight: one end is in God’s hand, and the other is in yours. If you hold on to it, you will never go astray. The Lesser Weight is my family (Ahl al-Bayt), and the two will never be separated until they come to me at the Pond of Kawthar.”

The Qurʾan is the straight path (ṣirāṭ al-mustaqīm) leading to Allah: “‘This indeed is my straight path…” (Surah al-Anʿām, 6:153) 

It is the criterion (furqān) that distinguishes truth from falsehood: “Blessed is He who sent down the Criterion to His servant that he may be a warner to all the nations.” [Quran 25:1].

It is the light of guidance:“… And follow the light that has been sent down with him….”  [Quran 07:157]

Through the teachings of the Qurʾan, closeness and kinship among humankind is achieved. The Qurʾan’s guidance brings order to the chaotic affairs of human life and enables every individual to understand their social responsibilities and personal duties.

The Qurʾan encompasses all social and individual laws for humanity. It has established in the best way – each in its proper place and based on justice – the duties of worship, methods of moral refinement, laws of transactions and social interactions, laws of rights, economic laws, criminal and penal laws, as well as judicial laws.

In short, the Qurʾan is a just ruler that defines human duties from the beginning of life till its end (from when the embryo is in the womb of its mother, to the time when the person is placed in the grave):  in the best way, the sweetest language, and the most correct way.

All the laws and guidance understood from this divine Book are based on reason and logic. Rather, if all the world’s rational people and lawmakers gathered together, they would never be able to establish anything resembling even the minutest of Qurʾanic laws.

Whoever uses this Divine Book as their guide and aligns their life’s path with its criteria, laws, and commandments shall never stray from the path of humanity. Within them will blossom the essence of true devotion, the spirit of fellowship, and religious bonds. They shall attain virtue and prosperity in both realms of existence. The Qurʾan is the leading guide and the sun of truth – radiating from the eternal wellspring of divine illumination, heralding for humanity a new dawn of hope and promise.

Maintaining a balanced development of body and soul depends on following the Qurʾan’s teachings and instructions. Discovering the path of perfection and acting with moderation is to act according to the ordinances of the Qurʾan.

3. In Understanding the Qurʾan, One Must Draw from the Light of Divine Guardianship (Wilāyah)

As previously mentioned, the inner secrets and mysteries of the Qurʾan are known only to the one it was revealed to (the Prophet), and after him, they are entrusted to those who recite the Qurʾan, and his manifestations, representatives, vicegerents and successors and they are those about whom the Verse of Purification was revealed: “Indeed Allah desires to repel all impurity from you, O People of the Household, and purify you with a thorough purification.” [Quran 33:33]

And they are firmly rooted in knowledge: “no one knows its interpretation except Allah and those firmly grounded in knowledge.”  [Quran 03:07]

In a narration from Imam Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq (peace be upon him) it is reported: “We are the ones firmly grounded in knowledge and we know the interpretation of the Qurʾan.”

Shaykh Ṭabarsī, in his exegesis, reports a ṣaḥīḥ (authentic) hadith from the Prophet (peace be upon him and his household): “It is not permitted for anyone to interpret the Qurʾan except through sound hadith and clear textual evidence.”

There are many reports warning against interpreting the Qurʾan based on personal opinion. 

In explaining tafsīr and ta’wīl, it is said:

Tafsīr is uncovering the intended meaning of an ambiguous expression, while Ta’wīl is resolving one of its possible meanings to align with the apparent (text).

On the other hand, the Qurʾan praises those who derive rulings from it:

“…those of them who investigate would have ascertained it….” [Quran 04:83]

And the Holy Prophet (peace be upon him and his household) has stated: “The verses of the Qurʾan have the capacity to carry many meanings, apply to them the best of their meanings.”

Elsewhere, the Qurʾan is called: “…A clarification of all things.”  

And there are numerous similar verses and narrations that command contemplation (tadabbur) and reflection (tafakkur) upon the Qurʾan’s verses so that the meanings embedded within them may be comprehended. Were the interpretation (tafsīr) of the Quran impermissible, contemplation upon it would be rendered futile and fruitless. Furthermore, it would not be permissible to censure or blame those who do not contemplate and reflect upon the Quran: “Do they not contemplate the Qurʾan, or are there locks on the hearts?  [Quran 47:24]

It is evident that contemplation and reflection upon the Qurʾan is to understand its embedded meaning, whereby through such reflection, certain of its mysteries and hidden truths are unveiled. And understanding the literal meaning of the words is different from personal interpretation (tafsīr bi raʾi), which is what has been prohibited. 

The literal meanings of the Quran can be understood by any Bedouin Arab without requiring contemplation and reflection. Thus, God has simultaneously commanded reflection upon the Qurʾan and the articulation of its intended meanings while prohibiting interpretation based on personal opinion. According to the rules of logic, one cannot both command and prohibit regarding the same exact subject; the subject of the command must differ from the subject of the prohibition.

The responsibility of spreading goodness and truth, and of safeguarding the divine principles revealed to humanity, rests upon every believer. In every age, the means of fulfilling this responsibility differ. Just as earlier generations of Muslims utilized the tools of their times to protect and convey the legacy of the Ahl al-Bayt, so too must we, in this era, utilize the mechanisms placed before us. Among the most prominent of these emerging tools is artificial intelligence, a field that has begun to reshape knowledge, communication, and influence across the world.

The central question before us is this: Can artificial intelligence be harnessed to serve the religion of Islam and to strengthen the voice of the school of Ahl al-Bayt ? The question remains: to what extent is it not only permissible but necessary, to use artificial intelligence for reviving and defending the matter of Ahl al-Bayt in our times? As the Imams emphasized: “Revive our matter.” This revival is not confined to rituals or commemorations, but extends to ensuring that their knowledge, values, and truths reach the farthest corners of the world in the most effective way.

Thus, the role of artificial intelligence in serving the school of Ahl al-Bayt is profound. It can amplify our message in the media, enhance our methods in education, refine our organization of efforts, and fortify our intellectual defense against the currents of falsehood. To neglect such a means is to fall short in our duty to “call to goodness.”

In the sections that follow, Sayyid Muneer al-Khabbaz explores these dimensions in detail, showing how artificial intelligence—when guided by sound religious principles—can become a powerful servant of the truth and a means of reviving the legacy of the Ahl al-Bayt for generations to come.

In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful, and peace and blessings be upon the most honorable of prophets and messengers, Muhammad and his pure and purified family. And perpetual curse upon all their enemies until the Day of Judgment.

Allah the Blessed and Exalted said:

“And let there be among you a nation that calls to goodness and commands what is right and forbids what is wrong.”

Allah the Most High, the Great, has spoken the truth.

Among the means and mechanisms that have developed and emerged in the present era is the investment in artificial intelligence.

Do we, as Muslims and as Shia followers of the Ahl al-Bayt (peace be upon them all), have scope in using and investing in artificial intelligence? The use and investment of artificial intelligence in spreading religion and promoting the school of thought of Ahl al-Bayt (peace be upon them all) is among the most important works and among the greatest in the position of working for the service of religion and serving the school of Ahl al-Bayt (peace be upon them).

This is from several aspects we mention.

The First Aspect: The Media Aspect

We Muslims, particularly the Shia of Ahl al-Bayt, are backward in the media field. That is, we do not possess advanced media means in different languages through which we can convey our beliefs and convey our concepts and principles of Ahl al-Bayt to others.

Ahl al-Bayt (peace be upon them) said: “Revive our cause,” and reviving their cause is not only through the recommended rituals that we practice during occasions of Ahl al-Bayt (peace be upon them). Reviving their matter is by spreading their sayings, principles, and history through advanced media means.

Allah the Blessed and Exalted said: “And let there be among you a nation that calls to goodness,” and calling to goodness is about investing in media to spread goodness—and what goodness is greater than the principles of Ahl al-Bayt (peace be upon them all).

Therefore, we see emphasis from the pure Imams (peace be upon them) on spreading the school of Ahl al-Bayt (peace be upon them all):
“Be callers for us without your tongues.”
We do not want words, we want action, we want deeds, we want such effective advanced media works.

From the media aspect, spreading the school of Ahl al-Bayt requires that we use all advanced means, and among the most important is artificial intelligence—loading artificial intelligence with the history of Ahl al-Bayt, with the principles of Ahl al-Bayt, with their sayings—so that every researcher in any region of the world can enter and ask questions to artificial intelligence about Shia, about Shia beliefs, about Ahl al-Bayt (peace be upon them), and will find complete and comprehensive answers through our investment in artificial intelligence and loading it with this correct information.

The Second Aspect: The Educational Side

How do we teach our children the sciences of Ahl al-Bayt (peace be upon them all)?

It is narrated from Imam al-Sadiq (peace be upon him):
“Teach your children from our knowledge what benefits them,” and also:
“Hasten to teach your children hadith, lest the Murji’ah precede you.”

Our children, our youth—how do they learn the school of Ahl al-Bayt? Children who are in school, how do they learn the school of Ahl al-Bayt? They learn it through using artificial intelligence. A time will come when even a child will be able to use artificial intelligence easily. We must precede this time, we must precede this world. We must rush to use and invest in artificial intelligence in ways that benefit teaching our children.

Allah says:
“Read in the name of your Lord who created, created man from a clot. Read, and your Lord is the Most Generous, who taught by the pen, taught man what he knew not.”

The Qur’an urges learning—learning what benefits a person. Among the important educational means is artificial intelligence, because it achieves discussion and dialogue between the speaker and artificial intelligence. This bilateral approach conveys information more effectively than the unilateral approach. When a person reads information in a book or online, this is unilateral. But when he discusses and debates with artificial intelligence, and information reaches him through these debates, this approach is stronger in the field of education and in consolidating information.

Therefore, artificial intelligence is an important educational tool for our children, youth, and young ones.

The Third Aspect: Organizing Matters

The Noble Qur’an says:
“And say: Work, for Allah will see your work, and His Messenger and the believers.”

What is required of us is to work—not to stand still, but to work, to move. And another verse says:
“Who created death and life to test you as to which of you is best in deed.”

After work, the next step is that our work should be the best and most perfect. Imam Ali (peace be upon him) said:
“The value of every person is what he excels at.”

We, praise be to Allah, are Shia of Ahl al-Bayt (peace be upon them all). We have festivals, conferences, celebrations; we have work—but we need to develop the work to what is better. We must move our work to a more advanced stage so that we become an example of the verse: “to test you as to which of you is best in deed.”

To move to better work, we need new means. Among the most important of those means is investing in artificial intelligence—loading it with our sciences, beliefs, and history so that we can later use it to develop our work.

We, as funeral ceremonies, processions, schools, institutes, universities, and seminaries, all need management. There is no company or institution without management. Management requires groups that innovate new means and methods, and artificial intelligence provides insights and ideas that may not be apparent otherwise.

Imam Ali (peace be upon him) said:
“Fear Allah and organize your affairs.”

For our management to be perfect and organized, we need to refer to the expert. Today, artificial intelligence is that expert.

The Fourth Aspect: Intellectual Power

Allah the Blessed and Exalted says:
“And prepare against them whatever you are able of power.”

We do not call for wars or confrontations; we call for preparing intellectual power, not military power. How do we resist the currents of modernity and postmodernity, and the ideas the West presents? The West is invading our homes with ideas that destroy families, women’s chastity, and call for deviant principles—leaving societies without families, kinship, neighbors, or cooperative principles.

How do we protect our children and generations from these intellectual currents? By building intellectual power, which in our time must be based on advanced means and mechanisms, including artificial intelligence.

We Muslims, and especially we Shia of Ahl al-Bayt, must take the initiative to invest in artificial intelligence and load it with what is appropriate, harmonious, and compatible with the school of Ahl al-Bayt (peace be upon them all).

This requires cooperation between:

1. The technical expert in artificial intelligence.
2. The religious scholar from the seminary who provides the religious program and information.
3. The user who applies artificial intelligence in life and management, sharing feedback to refine it.

We need these three elements to complete the work of education, media, and intellectual power.

We ask Allah the Blessed and Exalted to grant us success for His pleasure, to keep us away from His disobedience, and to make us among the servants of Ahl al-Bayt (peace be upon them) living and dead. Praise be to Allah, Lord of the worlds, and peace be upon Muhammad and his pure family.

In the first installment of this series, “He Knows Best Those who are Guided” I: A Typology of Convert Experience,” I contend that the North American Shīʿī community is underresourced – financially, educationally, and in terms of human capital – to adequately and sustainably support seekers and newcomers to Islam. I propose that an essential part of developing the capacity to support converts involves cultivating a more nuanced understanding of the diverse experiences and needs among them.. In the first article I lay out three different categories of converts and their main qualities.

In this article I will offer a description of the three stages of the convert experience: Transformation, Growth, and Synthesis. I also offer brief reflections on particular characteristics of Islamic community centers that contribute to hindering converts’ growth. Understanding these stages will help our community equip itself with empathy and with tools needed to support converts beyond “Intro-to-Islam” classes or “Convert Stories” panels. The needs of converts go beyond the elementary and beyond the classroom or majlis setting. 

While I hope that this article is substantial, this rudimentary depiction of the stages of convert growth is not sufficient; I look forward to reading more complex or alternative explanations of these stages by others with more experience and explanatory power. I offer this, in part, as another step toward developing a more robust discourse and community conversation about the convert experience and convert needs in the North American Shīʿī community.

Three Stages of Convert Experience

The complex and profound nature of religious conversion creates many hurdles, challenges, and opportunities in the life of the new Muslim. There is profound spiritual substance to celebrate when discussing “convert issues” which can help bring balance to the discourse surrounding converts in our communities. 

Conversion reflects a wellspring of contemplation and bravery in the soul of the convert. It signifies an individual has assessed their life’s path and decided to embark on an entirely new journey. This requires the sincerity to admit past errors; the courage to be open to new ideas despite significant challenges that lie ahead; the spiritual might to endure the pain of stripping away incorrect ideas about Reality; the amplitude of heart to adopt a new vision for life; and the endurance to leave behind or amend prior social patterns and relationships in order to create a new web of community. 

Conversion is a manifestation of the essence of “Islam” itself— submission to Reality. The three stages outlined below represent one attempt to illustrate the key phases a convert may pass through on the infinite path toward God.

1 – Transformation 

Transformation is the initial shift from one vision of life to another. This is the first and most essential component in the conversion journey. It is initially a transformation of the mind and heart through an analysis of what one believes; this may include a metaphysical experience that confirms the basic contours of Islamic conviction. It is secondly a two-fold testimony on the tongue: there is no god but God and that Muhammad is God’s messenger—the shahādatayn. The inner commitment precedes the outer testimony. For those making an intra-Muslim shift it is a transformation that includes the belief and testimony that ʿAlī is the Prophet’s Successor and the foremost authority on Islam after the Prophet (ṣ).

The stage of Transformation involves a breaking with a portion of the former self. This often entails at least three changes.

A change in one’s understanding of truth and one’s view of the world

Conversion is a reformation of what one believes is the truth about the world and the way one lives within it. This includes the abandoning of a prior theological or philosophical code (or lack thereof) as well as a change in one’s ethical code—the way one ought to behave. 

This rupture requires the heavy challenge of sifting one’s convictions through a new filter. In this early stage this may take on the form of a simple rejection of agnostic, atheistic, polytheistic, or non-Muhammadan monotheistic views of the world. At the initial level of action it typically includes the rejection of consumption of alcohol and pork, and the adoption of regular prayer (formal and non-formal) and the struggle to fast during Ramaḍān. 

For those making an intra-Muslim shift we can amend the aforementioned analysis to mean a shift in conviction and action to the particular views of belief and action as taught by Twelve-Imām Islam.

A change in one’s understanding of one’s self

Conversion may entail the challenge of reformulating how one sees one’s self and identity. 

A New Muslim must face the challenge of seeing oneself in a new light: as a member of a universal brotherhood founded on justice and harmony rooted in a message from God.  They must navigate the negative stereotypes about Muslims that abound in their social environment simultaneously. 

“Turning Turk” was a term used to describe the conversion of European non-Muslims to Islam in the early-modern period. “Turk” was used because it alluded to a wholesale shift from European Christian or Jewish culture to the Islam of the Ottoman Empire, which was a rival power to Europe at the time. “‘[T]urning Turk’ implied not just a religious conversion, but also the complete undoing of all things constitutive of an English Christian identity.”((Degenhardt, Islamic Conversion and Christian Resistance on the Early Modern Stage, 1))

Contemporary social and political environments entail a similar challenge. Being Muslim is often racialized in American discourse. It is a way of life that is “Arab” or “Brown” or “Eastern.” This racialization of the category “Muslim” encompasses stereotypes of barbarity, misogyny, and religious extremism. 

Some individuals thrive on this counter-cultural self-conception—breaking away from a moral order they perceive as flawed becomes part of their personal drive, as they actively redefine who they are.  They find meaning in rebelling against materialistic, white-Supremacist, or other non-Islamic views of the world.

Others struggle to see themselves as part of a religious and social dynamic that often feels unfamiliar or even at odds with their pre-conversion life. They struggle with national or racial identities such as questioning if one can be both  “American” and “Muslim.” They may not be familiar with many Muslims that share their racial, ethnic, national, or linguistic heritage—thereby feeling that they are navigating uncharted waters without a North Star.

To complicate matters, some converts do not see a strong break with their former identity—whether positive or negative. Rather, they view their conversion as a natural consequence of all their prior experiences.

Self-identification often manifests itself in changes in dress (is the thobe really a more religious garb? Does wearing a scarf make me Arab?), eating habits (abandoning of pork, breaking the fast with dates, an increase in eating “eastern” foods—e.g. shawarma and biryani—coded as “Muslim food”), and even in the changing of one’s name (are Arab names inherently more “Islamic”?).

For an individual shifting from another Islamic path, this entails the challenge of identifying oneself with Twelve-Imam Islam that one’s prior religious group may have called renegade, heretic, or non-Muslim.

In many cases there is a subtle or powerful feeling of becoming an “apostate” from one’s prior self. 

A change in one’s community

Conversion often entails changes in one’s familial and social dynamics. Active conversion reshapes one’s concerns and lifestyle, which naturally leads to shifts in familial and social dynamics. A new Muslim may be deeply preoccupied with their religious changes but find it difficult to speak openly about them with family or friends—either due to lack of understanding or open hostility. This tension can lead to a weakening of prior relationships. When compounded with the simultaneous struggle to find like-minded Muslims who share similar cultural expressions and life experiences, the new Muslim often experiences a profound sense of isolation.

The Stage of transformation represents all of the challenges that an embrace of, submission to, and voyage upon a new path in life entails: a deep negation and affirmation encoded within the testimony of faith (shahādatayn) – that “there is no god but God and that Muhammad is God’s messenger”. The soul of the convert often undergoes a dynamic and messy oscillation and recalibration between the two: do adherents to my prior religion have access to salvation? To what extent do I accept or deny my prior self, culture, and identity? Does God want me to get closer or further from my family and friends? 

2. Growth

The growth stage is a stage that overlaps with Transformation. This is the stage in which the convert begins to settle into their chosen spiritual tradition, with a firm intention to cultivate their Islamic character intellectually, spiritually, and—where appropriate—socially.

This stage is the most crucial for cultivating confidence in one’s Islamic identity and cultivating a clear vision for the world through an Islamic lens. This takes a significant amount of time, energy, and effort. For some it occurs through concerted study, reading, or watching religious lectures. For others it could be through anecdotes, and lessons shared in communion with other Muslims or through a family member, friend, spouse, or other social relations. 

Converts often develop their conviction through a complex, interwoven combination of these various factors. An Islamic education that combines formal and informal learning is often the most successful in building strong, socially connected Muslims.

The Growth stage is ongoing and without an endpoint. While it serves as a bridge between the Transition and Synthesis stages, it gradually overlaps with Synthesis, forming a continuous and evolving gradient once that stage is entered. 

The Three Layers of Growth

The growth stage encompasses strengthening three essential overlapping components: knowledge, spiritually driven action, and community life.

A – Knowledge (al-ʿilm) 

The knowledge (al-ʿilm) component is to deepen one’s knowledge of the conceptual and practical ingredients that lead to a faithful life.  

Knowledge of the Qur’an, history of the Prophet and Imams, theology (al-kalām), virtue ethics (akhlāq), and law (al-ahkām al-sharʿiyyah) form the central concerns at this stage. This is true whether the convert undergoes formal education or is merely taught through communal interaction and sporadic lectures. This includes knowledge of issues as varied as the nature of God, love for the Prophet and his family, social etiquettes, hygienic practices, formal prayer, and basic Arabic recitation of portions of the Qurʾān.

In the early stages of growth, the accumulation of knowledge sets into motion a recalibration of the self, as the individual engages with new terminology and concepts that challenge prior perceptions and ways of living. Basic knowledge of these components also provide an added data set to converse with and relate to the larger community—providing an on-ramp to community integration.  

One important challenge the community faces at this stage is the lack of organized educational mechanisms for adults, much less New Muslims. The lectures organized around the religious calendar generally don’t provide adequate education because everyone is entering with different knowledge bases and the lectures are thematically sporadic. 

 B – Spiritually-Driven Action (al-ʿamal)

The action (al-ʿamal) component is to live a life in fulfillment of the religious tradition.  

Spiritual action comes through the application of the legal and ethical code (knowledge) through pious, reverent intent. Through the adoption of Islamic teachings into one’s life, the convert begins a life of Islamically-shaped devotion to God. This spans everything from praying the five daily formal prayers to serving the poor; from fasting the month of Ramadan to choosing your job on ethical grounds; from reading transmitted supplications (e.g. the prayers of al-Saḥīfat al-Sajjādiyyah) to religiously driven political activism. In sum, it is using the Islamic ethical code to filter your decision making.

The challenges to living a well-founded Islamic life are many, including the convert’s social environment, their quality of will-power, etc.The primary institutional challenge within our control is that spiritually driven action depends on the acquisition of knowledge—yet our community centers often lack strong educational resources and effective learning mechanisms. When one’s knowledge base is weak, one’s actions are less likely to align harmoniously with the will of God.

Secondly, some community centers place heavy emphasis on regionally developed spiritual practices (e.g. forms of laṭmiyyah, reading devotional poetry, serving special meals in honor of the Ahl al-Bayt, etc.) that are secondary in relation to learning the core teachings of the religious texts. Relatedly, some community centers use a language other than English for their programming. For a convert this might be confusing or alienating.

Thirdly, in many community centers, “Islam” is framed as a religion practiced primarily through ritual. This experience can narrow the range of spiritually driven actions a convert perceives as beneficial to their spiritual growth. It can create a chokepoint in their development, particularly for those with an inclination toward intellectual, contemplative, or socially and economically justice-oriented forms of devotion.

The second and third weaknesses are symptoms of the primary disorder of weak educational resources.

C- Community Life

The communal component involves cultivating bonds of love and trust with fellow Muslims, and—where possible—establishing families as part of a rooted and supportive Islamic life.  

Islam is a deeply communal religion. Teaching is communal. Communal prayer is, of course, communal. Meals shared after the fast of Ramadan are communal. Islamic teachings focus on care for family, friends   and neighbors alike.

Growth of this component is cultivated through rich relationships, marriages, and the giving and receiving of acts of service and generosity. This layer is often a conduit for knowledge acquisition: we learn through living and navigating communal life. We struggle to keep promises. We learn to trust and we learn how to bring people together after conflict: through these experiences we learn about our own character and refine ourselves.

There are multiple challenges here. Firstly, many community centers are built around the idea of preserving their often insular ritual tradition in a secularizing society. So, there are no protocols in place for acculturating and teaching a New Muslim.

Secondly, our communities often harbor forms of prejudice from societies abroad and through reifying local forms of racial, ethnic, and class-based animosities. These are often the first hurdles that a new convert faces in the community.

Thirdly, many communities are built on extended-family networks. These family networks are often hard to break into. People who rely on family networks for their social life often assume others have a similar network, resulting in overlooking that new converts have no similar network.  

These challenges often prevent converts from forming deep, meaningful bonds within the community. As a result, they may encounter significant barriers to marriage within the community and find themselves excluded—explicitly or implicitly—from full participation in local community centers. The pain stemming from these social experiences can lead to a weakening of conviction and a sense of disillusionment. In the age of social media, some converts turn to virtual networks to find a sense of belonging. While these platforms can offer valuable connections, they inevitably come with limitations in terms of intimacy, trust, and sustained communal support.

3. Synthesis 

The Transformation and Growth Stages sometimes lead to ruptures within the self or in relation to the convert’s “culture” or society. As one begins to add new practices to their lifestyle there is a feeling of alienation from one’s prior life. Conflicts with family and friends sometimes weaken a convert’s resolve. Converts may go through phases where Islamic practice weakens, or one confronts challenges by incorporating their prior identity with their new conviction. These are normal challenges, but they are fraught with uncertainty.

Ideally, the Growth Stage leads a convert to the stage of Synthesis. 

 Synthesis occurs when the individual utilizes the Islamic Path as an effective filter through which their personality, inclinations, and culture are purified, but not entirely abandoned. One begins to reconcile their complex, lived identity through the lens of Islamic ideals, coming to realize that their previous joys, ethnic background, and national affiliation are not necessarily in conflict with their newfound convictions. At the Synthesis Stage, the convert harmonizes the beautiful parts of their personality and background with their new moral compass. They feel at home in their religious skin – their entire being now transformed by the light of guidance.

Ideally, the Synthesis stage, in turn, nurtures the ongoing Growth Stage. That is, now fully confident in their self-conception as a Muslim, they process religious teachings in more heartfelt and transformative ways. Their knowledge acquisition, spiritual practice, and community engagement deepen due to this self-assurance.

In the end, the individual uses the spiritual light of Islam to see and shape themselves and their society—ultimately becoming a beacon of light through which society is changed.

The challenges to reaching Synthesis are the same as those in the Growth Stage. There must be expressive space for converts to grapple with their new convictions and lifestyle. Islam is not an Arab, Persian, or South-Asian phenomenon. Islam is a dynamic, living, and universal call to all humankind. God’s light of guidance is spread across the world. Islam is not the exclusive inheritance of the Arabs or any single group of people.
   

O humankind! Worship your Lord, who created you and those who were before you, so that you may be Godwary.
Q. 2:21

So, we hope to see all peoples of this land—of “the West” and “the East” and everyone in-between—in a single universal brotherhood worshiping the Divine.

O humankind! Indeed, We created you from a male and a female, and made you nations and tribes that you may identify yourselves with one another. Indeed the noblest of you in the sight of God is the most Godwary among you. Indeed God is all-knowing, all-aware.
Q. 49:13

Conclusion

This is just one way of illustrating the conversion experience and needs. Despite its weaknesses, I hope that it provides our community with some insights that empower it to lay the groundwork to encourage many more seekers to enter the Islamic path and to nourish the souls of a growing convert community. I hope others will offer their perspectives in future papers to help us more clearly understand our community’s strengths and weaknesses in supporting seekers of God.

If I am afforded the opportunity, in a forthcoming article I will map out a more detailed typology of community blind spots and pitfalls that slow down or destroy the convert’s journey as an attempt to more clearly diagnose our institutional weaknesses regarding convert support, in shāʾ Allāh. 

Introduction

In recent years, Digital Humanities have emerged as a transformative field, merging the humanities—which I refer to as “traditional” in the context of this paper—with computational and digital technology. This interdisciplinary field uses digital tools to analyse a wide range of textual, cultural, historical, and social information. Applying computational methods and digital tools to the study of religion offers unprecedented opportunities for innovative research methodologies, as well as for preserving and disseminating religious knowledge. This paper explores the current state and future potential of Digital Humanities in Islamic studies, examining how it reshapes “traditional” approaches and creates new possibilities for academic scholarship and public engagement.

Digital Humanities

Digital Humanities is an important interdisciplinary field that uses digital technology to support, facilitate, and accelerate the analysis process in research within “traditional” humanities disciplines. It encompasses a wide range of methods and tools, including:

1. Digital archiving, which involves preserving and organising digital collections for easier and long-term access to texts and images. 
2. Text mining, a technique that employs algorithms to analyse large volumes of textual data and extract patterns and themes that would be challenging to detect and analyse manually. 
3. Social network analysis, an important method that examines relationships and interactions between individuals, groups, or entities to uncover social structures and connections. 
4. Natural Language Processing (NLP), a field that helps computers understand and interpret human language, allowing scholars to analyse linguistic patterns, word frequencies, and syntax to gain insights into language use in historical or literary texts. 

By applying these tools, scholars are not only able to analyse larger datasets than “traditional” methods would permit but also uncover insights that may not be accessible through “traditional” academic scholarship.

Islamic Studies and Digital Humanities

Islamic Studies, like the study of other religions, is a diverse academic field covering topics including but not limited to,  theology, history, literature, philosophy, and cultural studies, and is currently undergoing a digital transformation. “Traditional” Islamic scholarship relies extensively on close readings of primary texts, particularly when focusing on early Islam. The rise of Digital Humanities is now transforming Islamic Studies by enabling unprecedented access to these primary sources, allowing for extensive analysis and overcoming many of the obstacles that once limited scholarly engagement with these materials. The field of Islamic Studies, particularly within academia, is experiencing a shift toward digital tools that facilitate complex analyses of vast textual collections, open access repositories of manuscripts, and collaborative platforms that connect scholars worldwide. In what follows, I outline three of the most significant and transformative contributions that Digital Humanities can offer Islamic Studies. In these sections, I will explore how digital tools are revolutionising fields by digitising Islamic texts, digital archiving, computational text analysis, and social network analysis. Together, these advancements, as well as other tools not discussed in this paper, underscore the potential of Digital Humanities to enrich our understanding of Islamic heritage and support innovative approaches to scholarship.

It is important to note here that I do not believe digital tools alone can analyse complex data to derive precise and meaningful insights from Islamic texts. Collaboration with specialists in Islamic studies is an extremely crucial part of the process. These tools become truly effective when used by researchers who have a deep understanding of the patterns, concepts, and  the cultural and historical nuances in Islamic texts. Islamic studies experts can use their knowledge to fine-tune algorithms and analytical models, ensuring that they accurately reflect cultural and historical realities. Therefore, only combining technical skills with in-depth knowledge of Islamic studies can lead to richer and more reliable outcomes in digital Islamic studies.

a. Digitising Islamic Texts and Digital Archiving

Today, digitisation efforts by libraries and institutions worldwide are creating extensive online repositories of Islamic manuscripts and texts. For example, the Kitab Project (kitab-project.org) has digitised a substantial collection of Islamic texts, making them accessible to scholars around the world. Similarly, the Digital Library of the Middle East (dlmenetwork.org) offers open access to the cultural heritage of the Middle East and North Africa by bringing together collections from various cultural heritage institutions, including the Open Islamicate Texts Initiative (OpenITI), which was developed by researchers involved in the Kitab Project. With these digital resources, researchers are able to conduct complex linguistic analyses, compare manuscripts side by side, and map historical events across much larger datasets with significantly greater accuracy.

Digital archiving has become a crucial aspect of preserving and expanding access to Islamic manuscripts, due to advancements in digital tools. Leading institutions, such as the British Library and several organisations across the Middle East, are working on projects to digitise extensive collections of Islamic manuscripts. Furthermore, through Digital Humanities platforms like the International Image Interoperability Framework (IIIF), scholars now have the ability to examine high-resolution images of manuscripts, compare different versions side-by-side, and share annotations. Some projects are even focused on enabling direct text searches within these manuscripts, a feature that greatly enhances the accessibility of specific content. 

Despite these advancements, digital images of manuscripts and other cultural heritage materials are often stored within institutional silos, where each organisation relies on its proprietary software and metadata systems. This fragmentation poses challenges to researchers who need seamless access to collections across various platforms. IIIF offers a solution through standardised APIs (Application Program Interfaces) that enable integrated access to images and metadata across diverse repositories. 

Although IIIF has been widely adopted by major libraries and cultural institutions, it lacks tools for navigating specific sections within manuscripts, making it difficult for users to directly access individual passages without scrolling through entire documents. The MUYA-IIIF project, an initiative from the Multimedia Yasna project, is developing an IIIF-compatible tool that allows users to annotate textual structures—such as titles, chapters, and verses—within manuscripts, in order to address this gap. This tool will empower scholars to document structural elements across different versions, create direct links between text structures and corresponding images, and streamline workflows through machine-assisted text segmentation. By combining metadata, structural annotations, and TEI-XML transcriptions with manuscript images, MUYA-IIIF aims to provide an open-source solution that makes manuscript collections more accessible and searchable for research. As a result, digital manuscripts help protect these important documents and give scholars the opportunity to study how manuscripts travelled across different regions. It also adds valuable cultural and historical insights to Islamic Studies, which helps us to better understand the history and influence of these manuscripts over time and through various places.

b. Computational text analysis

Digital tools for textual analysis are among the most significant and transformative resources for enhancing “traditional” manual scholarship in Islamic Studies. They create extensive innovative opportunities for textual analysis and interpretation. Through tools like Natural Language Processing (NLP), specifically customised to work with Islamic languages, scholars can now conduct large-scale analyses that were once time-consuming and labour-intensive, uncovering historical insights that were previously tentative, unclear, or more importantly, inaccessible. With Natural Language Processing, researchers can analyse vast collections of ḥadīths, trace the transmission of ideas across different eras, detect recurring themes in Qurʾanic exegesis, and examine the evolution of legal opinions across various Islamic schools of thought. These tools enhance the depth and scope of Islamic textual scholarship, providing new insights and broader perspectives. Such methods can be applied to various languages like Arabic, Persian, and Ottoman Turkish texts, offering new perspectives on language use, cultural shifts, and intellectual trends. Projects like the OpenITI provide a comprehensive digital library of pre-modern texts especially in Arabic-script languages, allowing for computational analysis that would be largely impractical with those “traditional” manual methods. OpenITI’s corpus spans a vast range of topics, from theology to poetry, and presents these texts in a sort of machine-readable format, facilitating sophisticated computational approaches to Islamic texts. Serving as an important model for future digital projects in the humanities, OpenITI demonstrates the potential of international, interdisciplinary collaboration in advancing the field.

c. Social Network Analysis (SNA)

Social Network Analysis (SNA) is another valuable and important tool for studying and understanding relationships between people within historical contexts. In Islamic Studies, SNA can be used to map the networks of and relationships among Muslim scholars, ḥadīth transmitters, religious leaders, and even political figures, which can provide insight into how any Islamic knowledge, ideas, traditions, and ḥadīths were transmitted and disseminated across regions. By tracing these networks, researchers can see how religious texts and interpretations moved between individuals and regions. These network analyses can also help identify the impact of political figures on religious thought. This method provides a unique perspective on Islamic intellectual history, highlighting the collaborative and dynamic nature of knowledge transmission and uncovering patterns that may be missed in “traditional” manual analysis.

Some prototype tools have been developed to make exploring these networks easier and more interactive. For example, isnalyser, an open-source program (https://github.com/dhakarat/isnalyser), can automatically generate isnād-tree visualizations that map transmission chains across time and place, helping scholars quickly identify influential transmitters without the need to draw networks manually. Similarly, HadithGraph, a web-based tool (https://hawramani.com/hadithgraph/), allows users to input specific isnāds and instantly produce dynamic diagrams of the transmitter network. By adding details about these narrators and the ḥadīths themselves, these tools allow scholars to study transmission patterns based on time period, location, or topic. 

In addition to these specialized ḥadīth-focused tools, more general network analysis platforms such as Gephi (https://gephi.org/) can also be employed. Gephi is a powerful open-source software for visualising and analyzing complex networks, allowing scholars to work with larger datasets and customize visualizations beyond the limits of automated tools. It enables researchers to calculate centrality measures (e.g., identifying the most influential transmitters), detect clusters within transmission chains, and explore how sub-networks intersect across time and space.((For an example of the application of this analytical model in the study of the history of Imāmī ḥadīth, see Mostafa Movahedifar, “Social Network Analysis and the Development of Imāmī Thought,” Al-Qalam 2, no. 2 (2025): forthcoming.)) While Gephi requires more manual data preparation than dedicated tools like isnalyser or HadithGraph, it offers substantially greater flexibility for conducting in-depth social network analysis of Islamic history and ḥadīth transmission. This network approach offers new insights in ḥadīth studies, especially for those studying ʿilm al-rijāl (the science of ḥadīth narrators), by making it easier to spot patterns and connections that may not be obvious in “traditional” studies.

Some challenges

The use of digital tools in Islamic Studies is not always straightforward and faces several challenges, which can be addressed in the future projects on Digital Humanities. One major challenge is the fragmentation of some digital resources: several institutions, especially those in Muslim countries, have created valuable databases of Islamic texts and manuscripts, but these are often restricted by institutional access or paywalls. As a result, scholars and research teams frequently end up creating similar databases from scratch, duplicating work that has already been done. This redundancy wastes both time and resources. If existing databases were openly accessible and well-documented, researchers could build on prior work rather than starting fresh with each project. Another challenge is the linguistic diversity of Islamic texts—including Arabic, Persian, Urdu, and Ottoman Turkish—which creates significant technical hurdles for developing effective tools, particularly given the complex scripts and grammar of these languages. However, several projects are working to tackle these obstacles. Additionally, many libraries in Muslim-majority countries, which hold extensive collections of important manuscripts, often lack the resources to digitise these materials, limiting access to a vast portion of Islamic heritage. Addressing these challenges will be fundamental for advancing Islamic Digital Humanities and making Islamic scholarship more accessible and collaborative.

Conclusion

The future of Digital Humanities in Islamic studies holds immense potential to advance research and foster public engagement with Islamic heritage. By addressing key challenges and leveraging innovative tools, the field can become more inclusive and accessible. Achieving this vision requires collaboration among “traditional” Islamic scholars, Digital Humanities specialists, and computer scientists. To ensure the success of Digital Humanities in Islamic studies, academic Muslim institutions must invest in digital resources and training programs, while traditional scholars should integrate digital methodologies into their research. Technology experts must tailor tools to the specific needs of Islamic scholarship, and funding organizations should commit to supporting long-term digital initiatives. Moreover, engaging the broader Muslim community in shaping these projects will be essential to their relevance and impact.

Introduction

A balanced diet and the proper nutrition are fundamental necessities for young children to develop both mentally and physically. Despite this, one in four children worldwide face uncertainty about their next meal (Demeter, 2025), meaning millions of children are forced to partake in their daily activities on an empty stomach. Over time, this contributes to increasing rates of malnutrition and stunted growth. In the context of education, a lack of access to nutritious food reduces a student’s ability to concentrate in class and to achieve academic success. Additionally, the challenge of hunger also acts as a barrier to participation in academic activities. In the Global South, the combination of poor performance and low attendance is a leading cause of the endless cycle of poverty that affects over 600 million families (World Bank, 2024).

School feeding programs have emerged as an effective intervention to tackle the hunger pandemic head on. These initiatives build on the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals, more specifically “No Poverty”, “Zero Hunger”, and “Quality Education” (United Nations, 2025). Feeding programs ensure children receive the nourishment required to thrive during their formative years. By addressing a child’s immediate hunger, there is an opportunity to improve attendance and achievement in academic activities. Therefore, these programs have the ability to fuel economic activities and well-being on a mass scale in the Global South.

The Fill My Cup program, implemented by WF-AID, serves as a compelling case study for the success of feeding initiatives. The data shows that feeding initiatives can transform education outcomes for underprivileged students. By providing highly nutritious cups of porridge daily, Fill My Cup directly tackles hunger and supports a child’s ability to engage with learning.

This article will explore Fill My Cup’s project implementation, impact, and prospects, situating it within global efforts to combat childhood hunger and improve access to quality education. By examining both quantitative data and testimonials, this article aims to highlight the critical role of school feeding programs in fostering sustainable development and social equity.

The Ethics and Virtue of Feeding Others in Islamic Tradition

Beyond its practical impact, Fill My Cup is deeply rooted in Islamic principles of charity and social responsibility. The Holy Quran emphasises the virtue of feeding those in need, stating:

“And they give food in spite of love for it to the needy, the orphan, and the captive” (Quran, 76:8)

This verse highlights the moral and Islamic responsibility of righteous individuals in addressing food insecurity – Fill My Cup is not only a humanitarian effort, but also a fulfilment of religious values. A remarkable example of this ethos is  found in the actions of the Ahlulbayt.

According to the narrations,when Imam Hassan (as) and Imam Hussain (as) fell ill, Imam Ali (as) and Lady Fatima (as) vowed to fast for three days if their children recovered (Al-Islam.org, 2014). While facing extreme hunger over those three days, they were visited each night by  an indigent person, an orphan, and a captive all seeking sustenance. The household generously gave away their only food, breaking their fast with nothing but water. This act of sacrifice from the Ahlulbayt exemplifies the deep-rooted Islamic principle that true generosity lies not in giving from abundance, but in giving during times of personal hardship. . The Fill My Cup program embodies this spirit of sacrifice and care by ensuring vulnerable children receive the nourishment essential for cognitive development and growth, learning and long-term wellbeing.

The Islamic principles of Sadaqah and Infaq uphold values of compassion, social justice and community responsibility – especially in addressing hunger and inequality. Sadaqah, or voluntary charity, is highly encouraged in Islam as a means of purifying one’s wealth and supporting the vulnerable. It is narrated that the Prophet (saw) said, “Whoever feeds three Muslims, Allah will feed him from three gardens in the Kingdom of Heaven: the garden of al-Firdaws, the garden of Eden, and Tuba,” illustrating the immense spiritual reward associated with feeding others (Al-Islam.org, 2014). Similarly, Infaq refers to any act of giving in the way of Allah, not limited to financial donations, but encompassing all efforts to ease the hardships of others. Feeding hungry children, therefore, is a powerful act of both Sadaqah and Infaq – one that nourishes not only bodies, but souls.

The spiritual imperative is beautifully embodied in the Fill My Cup program. Through the provision of daily school meals, the initiative allows donors to fulfil these principles by actively participating in a cause that uplifts young lives. By contributing to the nourishment and education of children, supporters of the program align their charitable giving with divine guidance – transforming a simple act of feeding into an investment in the future of society.

The Global Struggle Between Hunger and Education

Childhood hunger is not a phenomenon limited to a few countries, it remains a global issue. In 2023, nearly 282 million people across 59 countries experienced high levels of acute hunger – an increase of 24 million people compared to the previous year (Shetty, 2024). This crisis is further exacerbated by the fact that hunger disproportionately affects children. Over 36 million children under the age of five suffer from acute malnutrition in 32 countries (UNICEF, 2024). These figures clearly illustrate that the world needs a structure which helps conquer the difficulties in childhood nutrition.

Without intervention, the direct impact will appear in both the short-term and long-term health of children. However, the ramifications of hunger will also extend beyond health, significantly undermining educational attainment. Statistical analyses  have proven that hunger adversely affects one’s concentration, and therefore,impacts academic performance and classroom behaviour. Studies indicate that 80% of teachers in low-income communities have observed hunger negatively impacting student concentration, 76% have noted decreased academic performance, and 62% have reported increased behavioural issues amongst hungry students (No Kid Hungry, 2023).

While hunger is a global phenomenon the occurrence is highly concentrated in the Global South, particularly in Africa. Kenya’s population faces extreme levels of hunger, with 34.5% of the population undernourished and 17.6% of the child population under five experiencing stunted growth (Wanzala, 2025). Tanzania faces similar difficulties, with over 20% of the population undernourished (World Bank, 2023), and home to the third highest population of stunted growth amongst children in Sub-Saharan Africa (Joseph et al., 2019).

The severity of childhood hunger demands urgent and sustained intervention. Feeding programs are a critical solution for breaking the cycle of hunger and ensuring children receive the nutrition necessary for their physical and cognitive development. Without such programs, millions of children will continue to suffer from malnutrition, impairing their health and depriving them of the opportunity to succeed academically and build a better future. 

Recognising the dire need, WF-AID has implemented the Fill My Cup program to directly combat child hunger in vulnerable communities. By providing highly nutritious meals daily to school children, the program ensures they receive the nourishment necessary to focus in class, improve academic performance, and reduce absenteeism. This initiative exemplifies a sustainable and impactful approach to addressing hunger while also fostering educational growth, reinforcing the necessity of global efforts to prioritise school feeding programs as a fundamental step towards a hunger free future.

WF-AID’s Fill My Cup: A Model for Change

The Fill My Cup program was launched by WF-AID in direct response to the alarming rates of child hunger and its detrimental impact on education. Recognising that millions of children attend school on an empty stomach, hindering their ability to concentrate and succeed academically, WF-AID set out to create a sustainable solution that bridges the gap between food security and educational attainment. The program is rooted in the fundamental belief that no child should be forced to learn while hungry, and that access to proper nutrition is essential for breaking the cycle of poverty.

By providing free daily breakfasts to school children in underprivileged communities, Fill My Cup aims to improve school attendance, enhance concentration, and support overall academic performance. This initiative not only addresses immediate hunger but also promotes long-term educational development, empowering children with the opportunity to build a better future.

Fill My Cup operates through a structured model that ensures schoolchildren receive a nutritious meal at the start of each day. The program targets low-income and food insecure communities where malnutrition and school absenteeism are widespread. In collaboration with local partners and schools, WF-AID facilitates the distribution of meals and eliminates the logistical challenges that often prevent children from accessing adequate nutrition. Providing food within the school environment serves as a strong incentive for parents to send their children to school regularly, thereby improving attendance rates. The initiative is designed to be sustainable and cost effective, thriving off grassroots engagement to ensure long-term continuity of meal provisions. By prioritising locally sourced food items and implementing a streamlined distribution system, WF-AID maximises the impact of each meal, reinforcing the critical link between nourishment and educational success.

In East Africa, a typical diet found in a family’s home consists of a variety of locally available foods. The diet is largely plant-based, supplemented with animal proteins, such as beef, chicken, goat, fish, eggs, milk and dairy, when available (Oldways – Cultural Food Traditions, 2024).

To ensure familiarity and cultural relevance, Fill My Cup sought to mirror a staple diet commonly consumed in local households.  The program provides a traditional porridge called Uji Ya Wimbi in Kenya or Uji Wa Ulezi in Tanzania. This is made by mixing millet flour with milk and simmering it to a smooth consistency, while adding sugar to enhance the taste of it (Rose, 2023). This porridge is highly nutritious, offering a rich source of fibre, iron, and essential micronutrients, which provide sustained energy throughout the school day. It is  easily digestible, making it suitable for young children, and keeping them satiated for longer periods of time, reducing hunger during lessons.

In the program’s implementation, WF-AID recognised the opportunity to enhance the provision of millet porridge by making it with fresh milk from the local markets. This is used in replacement of powdered milk that many families of the program are used to using. By using fresh milk, it provides a much creamier and rich taste to the porridge, delivering more enjoyment and fulfillment to the children.

The provision of millet porridge in the Fill My Cup program is cost-effective due to being locally sourced, making it a sustainable choice for school feeding initiatives. Since millet is widely grown in East Africa, sourcing it locally supports the small-scale farmers and uplifts local economies while reducing logistical costs associated with imported food products. This approach ensures that the program not only addresses childhood hunger but also contributes to economic growth in the communities it serves. Furthermore, because millet can be grown in hot or cold conditions, it provides a sustainable food source that can be grown year-round and can be relied upon in droughts or food shortages.

The Science of Nourishment and Childhood Development

Scientific research consistently demonstrates a strong link between nutrition and cognitive function, particularly in children. For the brain to develop properly , there needs to be a steady and consistent supply of essential nutrients into the body. Supporting this nutritional foundation will  enhance a child’s capacity to learn. Furthermore, a well balanced diet plays a crucial role in strengthening memory, enabling children to absorb and retain information more effectively (Hoyland, Dye and Lawton, 2009).

One of the most critical nutrients for brain function is glucose, the brain’s primary source for energy. This is especially important for school-aged children, whose brains are undergoing rapid growth and development. Neuroimaging studies have shown that the glucose consumption rate in the brain peaks between the ages of four and ten, exceeding even adult levels. This heightened demand reflects intense neural activity during a period when children are highly responsive to learning and environmental stimuli (Chugani, 1998). A steady intake of carbohydrates, such as those found in millet porridge, provides a slow-releasing source of glucose, sustaining mental clarity and cognitive function throughout the school day. Research consistently shows that children who eat breakfast outperform their peers in tasks involving memory, attention, and problem-solving (Hoyland, Dye and Lawton, 2009). These findings reinforce the importance of school feeding programs, which play a vital role in supporting cognitive development by ensuring children are not only nourished but biologically prepared to learn. 

Millet is particularly beneficial for children as it is naturally high in calcium and proteins,-both essential for healthy bone development- and iron, which prevents anemia, a common condition amongst malnourished students (Jessimy, 2024). By incorporating iron-rich and nutrient-rich foods such as millet in the Fill My Cup program, WF-AID actively combats anemia and its negative impact on learning.

Beyond immediate cognitive benefits, proper nutrition also has a significant impact on  long-term academic success. Studies have shown that children who receive regular, nutrient-dense meals are more likely to remain in school, achieve higher grades, and develop better social behaviours. One contributing factor is that the provision of daily breakfast provides an incentive for families to send their children to school – it reduces the financial burden on the parents and removes the stress of having to provide one more meal every day (WF-AID, 2024). In contrast, chronic malnutrition is associated with reduced school attendance, lower engagement, and an increased risk of dropping out. Addressing food insecurity through breakfast provisions not only enhances day to day classroom performance, but also provides a foundation for lifelong educational and economic opportunities.

The Fill My Cup program significantly improves a child’s diet by providing vital nutrients needed to maintain a balanced diet. While meals prepared at home attempt to meet the basic food security needs, they often lack the necessary micronutrients required for effective cognitive development. The provision of millet porridge through the program delivers glucose, fibre, iron, calcium, B Vitamins, protein and healthy fats – optimal for growth, immunity and cognitive function. This contributes to a well-rounded and balanced diet that supports both immediate and long-term well being.

Measuring the Transformative Impact of Fill My Cup

Over the years, WF-AID has collected compelling evidence that providing breakfasts in school not only addresses the food insecurity of young children but also plays a pivotal role in enhancing learning outcomes and reducing absenteeism.

Empirical data collected first hand from schools participating in the Fill My Cup program reveals substantial positive impacts amongst key educational indicators. In 2024, the program delivered over 700,000 meals to over 5,000 beneficiaries across 17 regions in Kenya and Tanzania (WF-AID, 2024), with demonstrable effects. Students participating in the program achieved a grade “A” or “Meeting Expectation” on average, and an average attendance of 94% (WF-AID, 2024).

In the context of WF-AID’s Fill My Cup, an econometric analysis was conducted in an attempt to reveal a significant causal relationship between breakfast provisions and two key outcomes:  (1) academic achievement and (2) attendance. The study revealed a weak, but positive relationship when exploring the correlation between breakfast provision and student grades or attendance. It was also revealed that there was a low statistical significance of the data set. Therefore, this should not be interpreted  as a lack of a relationship between the variables. Instead, it reflects the complexity of educational outcomes and the limitations of isolating single-variable effects in real-world settings. There are likely other factors impacting the student performance and attendance, which would be difficult to measure. Examples of other factors impacting student performance include, but are not limited to: , the provision of free transport to school, the quality of education, the variation of foods provided to the students throughout the day, socioeconomic background, and gender.

As such, it is evident that a quantitative analysis does not reveal a comprehensive picture. While metrics such as attendance rates, test scores, and meal counts are essential for evaluation, they are often influenced by multiple variables, and often fail to account for the social, emotional, and environmental factors that shape a child’s experience and development. To supplement the quantitative success of the Fill My Cup program, qualitative data collected from students, parents and teachers offers powerful insights into the lived experiences of those directly impacted by the initiative. A thematic analysis of over a dozen testimonials reveals consistent patterns affirming the program’s multidimensional effectiveness in addressing both educational and nutritional challenges faced by children from low-income households.

One of the most prominent themes highlighted across the testimonies was the improvement in school attendance. Multiple students and parents described the daily porridge as a motivating factor for attending school consistently. As one teacher from the Jaffery Madrasah in Kenya noted, the Fill My Cup program “provides an added incentive to attend school, therefore reducing absenteeism for this child and his peers” (Bilal Muslim Mission, 2023). Another testimony shared that “she makes it a point to attend school and madrasah, knowing that she will be able to satiate her hunger when she receives her cup of porridge” (Bilal Muslim Mission, 2023). For many children, this meal is the first or only reliable source of nutrition, transforming school from a place of obligation into a place of sustenance and hope.

In addition to improved attendance, the program has also led to noticeable enhancements in  children’s physical health and energy levels, as observed by their educators. A teacher from Dembwa Bilal Centre in Kenya remarked, “This program has truly helped our students become more active in class and in all school activities. During outdoor activities, they interact and play energetically, and this is because of the energy they get from this program” (Bilal Muslim Mission, 2024). Another parent noted, “This program has really helped my child grow healthy” (Bilal Muslim Mission, 2024), referring to their daughter’s visible physical development since the program began.

This increase in energy and nourishment also translated into better academic performance and classroom engagement. A testimony from a parent identified that their daughter, who used to be shy and introverted became  “more confident in interaction with fellow students both during lessons and extracurricular activities” (Bilal Muslim Mission, 2023).

This program also brings emotional relief and economic support by targeting vulnerable families in genuine need of  assistance. Several guardians shared that the provision of porridge alleviates the pressure of having to provide breakfasts themselves. A grandmother of an orphaned child, who now cares for him after the loss of both his parents, shared, “The only meals I now need to provide for my grandson are lunch and dinner, with breakfast being taken care of by the school” (Bilal Muslim Mission, 2024). These voices underscore one of the program’s broader implications, easing the financial and emotional tolls on underprivileged families.

This body of qualitative evidence affirms that Fill My Cup is more than just a feeding initiative, itis a catalyst for sustainable educational engagement, enhanced wellbeing, and community upliftment. As children become healthier, more focused, and socially integrated, they are better equipped to succeed academically and contribute meaningfully to their communities. These first-hand narratives humanise the program’s impact and highlighting its role in restoring dignity, opportunity, and hope to some of the most vulnerable segments of society.

Conclusion

The Fill My Cup program has demonstrated that feeding a child is not just a charitable act – it is  an investment in human potential. From improved attendance and academic achievement to enhanced health, confidence, and emotional wellbeing, the program’s impact extends far beyond the classroom.  By addressing a root cause of inequality, it ensures that no child is forced to learn on an empty stomach, and no parent is burdened with choosing between food and education.

The success of this initiative in Kenya and Tanzania has affirmed a vital truth- that access to the correct nutrition is a foundational right, unlocking access to education and brighter futures. By delivering a simple cup of nutritious porridge each morning, the program delivers a possible path out of poverty.

However, hunger is not bound by borders. Similar challenges are faced by millions of school children in other parts of the world, such as in Pakistan, where malnutrition and school dropout rates remain high in underprivileged communities. The next chapter of WF-AID’s Brighter Futures campaign (the parent campaign of Fill My Cup) includes a strategic expansion into these contexts – building on lessons learned, adapting to local dietary needs, and working closely with grassroots partners to reach the children most in need.

Now is the time to act, you have the power to change a child’s life with a single meal. With just £5 a month, you can ensure one child receives a nutritious breakfast every school day. You can donate directly at www.donate/fmc.Every pound(£) you give supports a child who might otherwise go hungry. Your generosity replaces hunger with energy, worry with focus, and uncertainty with possibility. 

References

Al-Islam.org. (2014). Surah al-Insan Chapter 76.

Arora, A. (2024). The State of Food Security and Nutrition 2024 – UNICEF DATA. UNICEF DATA. Available at: https://data.unicef.org/resources/sofi-2024/.

Bilal Muslim Mission. (2023) Fill My Cup Report, WF-AID (The World Federation), unpublished.

Bilal Muslim Mission. (2024) Fill My Cup Report, WF-AID (The World Federation), unpublished.

Chugani, H.T. (1998a). A Critical Period of Brain Development: Studies of Cerebral Glucose Utilization with PET. Preventive Medicine, 27(2), pp.184–188. 

Demeter, B. (2025). The Reality of Hunger Around the World | Feed the Children. Feed the Children. Available at: https://www.feedthechildren.org/our-work/stories/the-reality-of-hunger-around-the-world/.

Hoyland, A., Dye, L. and Lawton, C.L. (2009). A systematic review of the effect of breakfast on the cognitive performance of children and adolescents. Nutrition Research Reviews, 22(2), pp.220–243.

Jessimy, M. (2024). 11 Impressive Health Benefits of Millet – Natural Food Series. Naturalfoodseries.com. Available at: https://naturalfoodseries.com/11-health-benefits-millet/.

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No Kid Hungry (2023). How Does Hunger Affect Learning? No Kid Hungry. Available at: https://www.nokidhungry.org/blog/how-does-hunger-affect-learning.

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Rose, T. (2023). Easy Ways To Prepare Kenyan Uji Ya Wimbi – Humble Vege. Available at: https://humblevege.com/easy-ways-to-prepare-kenyan-uji-ya-wimbi/.

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Forget the titles, tributes, and plaques; this article isn’t about the Mulla Asghar immortalized in reports or etched into organizational history. What I wish to share is something more intimate, more human. This is the Mulla Asghar I knew.

A man whose soul held the stillness of oceans—vast, uncharted, and deep. His mind was a boundless library, echoing with philosophers, mystics, poets, and Prophets. He carried the Qurʾān in his heart, Ghalib on his tongue, and Mulla Sadra in his silences. 

And his heart? That was the miracle. It was a sanctuary. A refuge where the weary found rest, the confused found clarity, and the young found purpose. Leader or lost soul—when you sat with him, you felt seen. Heard. At home.

What follows isn’t a biography. It’s a glimpse. A doorway into private moments and unseen wisdom. A reflection of the man behind the mantle. A legacy not carved in stone—but etched in lives, like mine, forever changed by him. I invite you to step into that space with me—not as a reader, but as a witness.

The First Encounter

I first met Mulla Asgharali M.M. Jaffer at Tarangire Lodge in Tanzania in 1971. I was a young organizer at a youth camp where he had been invited to speak. As his voice filled the hall, something shifted in my understanding of leadership. He didn’t thunder. He didn’t posture. He invited. He revealed. Not abstract theology or ritual minutiae, but the relevance of faith in community life. How to serve. Why to serve. The tone was soft but firm, the ideas profound but digestible.

For the first time, I encountered leadership that spoke not just to the intellect, but directly to the heart. As he spoke of our responsibilities as Muslims in a rapidly changing world, I leaned in, drawn by the conviction in his words. It began there—with a simple act and a clear vision. Five decades later, that journey of service continues to shape who I am.

Little did I know that evening would mark the beginning of an inspiring journey that would intertwine our paths—25 of those years as his close confidant, witnessing both his public accomplishments and private struggles. The man I came to know was more complex and profound than the public figure most remember. His whispered prayers at dawn moved me more than his eloquent speeches to thousands. His grief for suffering strangers taught me more about leadership than any organizational accomplishments.

The Early Days: Witnessing the Foundation

After that first encounter in Tanzania, our paths crossed again in 1975. I still remember the moment—I was a young volunteer, serving tea to senior community leaders. In the middle of it all was Mulla Asghar, sharing his vision for what would become the World Federation.

While others focused on immediate concerns—debating logistics, committees, and constitutions—he was thinking big. He painted an incredible picture of a global community, not just linked by structure, but bound by shared values, by mutual support across continents. His vision to establish the Federation’s headquarters in London was strategic. “Our community has scattered like a broken tasbih,” he said. “We need a string to connect us across oceans.” His foresight left me speechless.

What struck me more than his words, was how he listened. He gave each person his full attention—whether it was a senior leader or a youth serving tea. He drew wisdom from every corner of the room, always learning, always connecting the dots.

The most remarkable aspect of these early discussions wasn’t his visionary thinking alone, but how skillfully he balanced it with pragmatic steps for implementation. “Dreams without deadlines remain fantasies,” he once remarked, after a debate about the Federation’s structure,  “but deadlines without dreams produce only empty achievements”. This synthesis of practical wisdom and spiritual insight became the hallmark of his leadership style—a style I would later observe from the closest vantage point.

His self-taught mastery of languages was evident even in these early meetings, as he switched effortlessly between English, Urdu, Gujarati, Kutchi, and the occasional Farsi idiom—ensuring everyone felt included. “Knowledge has no mother tongue,” he once told me with a twinkle in his eye when I asked about this ability, “…it speaks to whoever has the patience to listen”. This linguistic versatility wasn’t merely an intellectual achievement but a tool for building bridges between people of diverse backgrounds. It wasn’t just the languages—he had an uncanny ability to adopt local dialects when addressing audiences from distant parts of the world. I recall a man once asking me, “What area of Lucknow does he come from?”—just moments after Mulla had finished speaking to a group in Uttar Pradesh, India—unaware that he actually came from an entirely different part of the world.

A Confidant’s Perspective: Leadership Beyond Titles

The trajectory of my relationship with Mulla Asghar took an unexpected turn when, in 1977, he appointed me Secretary General of the World Federation. I was 27 years old—a surprising choice for many of the community elders. When I privately questioned his decision, wondering if my youth would undermine the organization’s credibility, he smiled and said, “the community doesn’t need another keeper of the past. It needs builders of the future.” His decision to skip a generation wasn’t impulsive but strategic—a deliberate choice to infuse the Federation with new energy and perspectives. It’s a lesson still worth reflecting on for today’s veteran leaders.

This marked the most insightful phase of our relationship, as I worked alongside him with a team of young professionals in London. For the next twenty-five years, I witnessed Mulla Asghar’s leadership from a unique vantage point—as a trusted confidant who often sat with him late into the night, discussing community challenges, personal quandaries, and his evolving vision for our future. These conversations revealed a dimension of the man rarely seen by others—his moments of doubt, his private struggles, his unguarded reflections, and at times, even his wrath. He had an uncanny ability to see both the intricate details and the distant horizon. Once, in the middle of a tense meeting about financial distribution with the World Federation Office Bearers, he turned to us and said, “Never confuse the visible balance sheet with the spiritual ledger. One feeds the ego. The other, the Ummah.”

What made working with him as a young person so remarkable was his genuine interest in our perspectives. While some leaders of his generation viewed youth with condescension, he approached us with curiosity and respect. “When I appointed you and your colleagues,” he confided years after that surprising decision, “many questioned my judgment. They saw only your inexperience. I saw your potential to reimagine our community’s future.” His faith in us became a self-fulfilling prophecy—under his mentorship, our team accomplished things we had never imagined possible.

A particular winter evening in London remains vivid in my memory. After our regular meeting at the World Federation office, I noticed Mulla Asghar was feverish and fighting a cold, his voice hoarse and his brow glinting with a hint of perspiration. I offered to drive him home, concerned about his health. “I can’t go home yet,” he replied, “I need to go to South London for a nikkah ceremony.” When I insisted he should rest, his response floored me. “You don’t understand,” he said, gently but firmly, “I had fallen out with the bride’s grandfather decades ago in Mombasa. If I don’t go today, they’ll think I still bear a grudge”. Despite his illness, he made the journey—not for politics, not for protocol—but for healing an old wound. That was Mulla Asghar. Leadership, for him, wasn’t about public applause. It was about private integrity. 

“Leadership is a burden disguised as an honor,” he once told me late one night in London, the fatigue of the day etched into the lines on his face.

I remember that 1990 evening clearly when he first shared the heart of what would become one of his iconic speeches. He said, “We’ve become too reactive. We need a society where taqwa shapes every decision—a community not defined by East or West, but by timeless Islamic values translated for modern times.” The resolution to anchor leadership in taqwā (God-consciousness) and ʿadālah (justice) didn’t pass that year, but the awareness it stirred has endured. As I later documented in Code of Leadership, his exact words were: “We need a society where we rise above the mean and mediocre to that which is high and sublime.”

Intimate Glimpses: The Man Behind the Title

The Mulla Asghar I knew best appeared in the quiet moments, between speeches and meetings. I once walked into his office unannounced and found him surrounded by letters from orphans in India, replying to each personally. He looked up, noticing my surprise, “Each child deserves to know they matter—not just as a case number, but as a soul.”

His modest lifestyle said as much about his values as his sermons. Despite his stature, he wore the same Sherwani for years. When I jokingly suggested an upgrade, he raised an eyebrow. “Will a new Sherwani make my words more truthful?”

He loved that old Nasruddin story: turned away from a feast in work clothes, Nasruddin returned in a fine coat and was honored. He then stuffed food into the coat’s pocket saying, “Eat, my Sherwani, eat!” Mulla Asghar chuckled every time he told it. For him, status was never stitched in fabric—it lived in the soul.

His library, though, was his only indulgence. Thousands of books in multiple languages lined his shelves. “Books aren’t possessions,” he once said while showing me a rare manuscript, “they’re companions.”

Crises brought out a rare resilience in him. During the Somalia crisis in 1990, he made hundreds of calls, securing aid and safe passage for families he had never met. His imprisonment under Saddam Hussain in Iraq in 1983 deeply affected him. He rarely spoke of it publicly, but quietly supported many Iraqi exiles after his own release—never mentioning it to anyone. He bore wounds, but chose to become a healer.

His Sense of Humor

Mulla Asghar’s humility was matched by his humor. I’ll never forget a speech in India. He was slightly unwell but determined to speak. As he stepped up, his shoe caught his shalwar and he stumbled slightly. Without missing a beat, he grinned and said in perfect Gujarati:

“જોયું ને—જિંદગી માટે તો ખરેખર એક મસ્ત ઉપમા છે!
સાચા રસ્તે હોઈએ તોય પગ લપસાઈ જાય…
પણ મુદ્દો એ છે કે આપણે કેવી રીતે ફરી ઊભા થઈએ!”

“See that? Life itself is just like this—you can be on the right path and still stumble. What matters is how you rise again.” That moment captured him perfectly—dignified, relatable, and wise.

The Spiritual Bond: Conversations About Faith and Doubt

Perhaps my greatest privilege was seeing Mulla Asghar’s private spiritual life. His faith was deep—but never dogmatic. He once told me during a midnight chai session, “Doubt is not the enemy of faith. It’s the shadow that proves the light exists.”

He longed for madrasas that didn’t just teach doctrine but cultivated compassion. “Religious instruction without transformation,” he said, “is like learning grammar and never writing poetry.”

I remember many mornings when he stayed at our home. I’d hand him his early morning chai, and there he’d sit after fajr prayers, wrapped in quiet reflection, the light of dawn illuminating his face. Once, he whispered, “Real prayer begins when the rituals end.” It wasn’t duty that drove him—it was love.

Radiating the Teachings of Ahlul Bayt (ʿa)

Mulla Asghar didn’t just preach the teachings of the Ahlul Bayt (ʿa) —he lived them. Once, in a lecture, he said, “When Imam Ali (ʿa) advised Malik al-Ashtar on governance, he wasn’t just speaking to rulers—but to anyone with responsibility for others.”

He once postponed a high-level donor meeting to sit with a newly arrived refugee family. When asked why, he simply said, “If leadership distances you from the weak, it isn’t leadership.”

His respect for intellectual inquiry echoed Imam Ja’far al-Sadiq (ʿa). “The Imam’s circle,” he often reminded us, “was full of people who disagreed. Real learning happens when knowledge is alive, not uniform.”

He walked the talk. Once, mediating a conflict between two jamaats (congregations), he chose fairness over appeasement—because, as he believed, leadership meant embodying the justice of Imam Ali, not chasing approval.

Khoja Heritage: A Deep Appreciation and the Birth of a Legacy

Of all his enduring contributions, Mulla Asghar’s reverence for Khoja heritage holds a special place in my heart. For him, our history wasn’t a matter of nostalgia—it was a wellspring of identity, a compass. He believed deeply that a community disconnected from its roots would always struggle to find direction in the future.

He often said, “We are not just descendants of converts—we are inheritors of conviction.” He took great pride in the syncretic journey of our ancestors—from Hindu roots, through Satpanth mysticism, to finally embracing the path of the Ahlul Bayt (ʿa). He never allowed that story to be flattened into a footnote; he elevated it into a narrative of resilience.

He introduced me to the earliest chroniclers of our journey—Adelji Dhanji Kaba, Sachedina Nanjiani, and others who had painstakingly documented the struggles of our forebears. “If we don’t preserve these voices,” he warned, “we risk forgetting who we are, and more dangerously, becoming who we are not.”

His passion ignited something in me, too. Later, when we launched the Khoja Heritage Project, it was more than an initiative—it became a movement. His dream of seeing our narrative captured on screen led to the creation of The Khojas: A Journey of Faith documentary. I remember his eyes lighting up when we first discussed the idea. Though he didn’t live to see it completed, it was created in his spirit, framed by his belief: “Understanding our past is not about looking back—it’s about walking forward with clarity.”

And even now, as the Khoja Heritage Project continues to grow—with translations, exhibits, oral histories, and children’s resources—it bears the imprint of his vision: that our heritage should not be embalmed in glass cases, but lived, taught, and celebrated. Not to glorify ourselves, but to ground ourselves—in humility, in history, and in hope.

A Farewell Without Words

There are departures in life you see coming. Then there are the ones that quietly unfold—unannounced, unhurried, yet unforgettable. My last journey with Mulla Asghar was one of the latter. It was February 2000. We had wrapped up yet another familiar visit to India—meeting community members, inspecting projects, listening to concerns, and reaffirming our commitments. 

On paper, it was business as usual. But looking back, every detail of that trip now shimmers with significance. He wasn’t rushed. But he was intentional. In each meeting, he spoke with a quiet finality. Every promise was made with unusual weight, as though he were engraving it onto stone rather than simply expressing it. He asked me to take notes diligently. He introduced me to others not merely as Vice President, but as “someone you must now trust.” At the time, I took it as a nod of respect. Only later did I realize he was preparing them; not for his next visit, but for his absence. Perhaps, most poignantly, he was preparing me.

That final evening, we sat in a modest hotel lobby, sipping tea. No ceremony, no grand declarations. Just two colleagues, two friends, two travelers, who had walked a long road together. Our conversation wandered—from the highs of past conferences to the laughter of minor mishaps. Then came one of his signature moments of distilled wisdom. He leaned in slightly and said: “The most important quality in leadership isn’t vision or eloquence—though both help. It’s the ability to see what is already emerging… and remove the obstacles.” I asked what he meant. He smiled, his gaze both distant and piercing. “The future of our community isn’t ours to design,” he said softly. “It’s already being written—in the hearts and minds of the youth. Our duty is not to mold them, but to make space for them. Guide them gently. And then step aside.”

There was a calm in his tone I hadn’t heard before. Not resignation—but readiness. As though he was already speaking from a different place, a mountaintop view only he could see. The next morning, we embraced as usual. The embrace lingered—firmer, fuller, as though trying to compress decades of trust into a single gesture. “We’ll continue this conversation when you’re next in London,” he said as we parted. But something in his eyes said otherwise. Just over a month later, I received the call. He was gone.

I boarded my flight from Dallas to London in a daze, the hours felt endless. My mind replayed every detail of that final trip, every word we exchanged. Somewhere over the Atlantic, it dawned on me: I had been a witness to a sacred farewell. One that had unfolded with such grace, such humility, that I only recognized it in hindsight. He hadn’t made an exit, he had made a transition.

He had spent those final days not preparing his legacy—but planting it and watering it. Ensuring that even in his absence, the roots would deepen and the branches would stretch toward new sunlight. In his final act, he left us with no vacuum. Only a torch—gently placed in our hands, still warm from his grasp.

The Living Legacy: Carrying Forward His Light

It’s been nearly 25 years since I stood at his freshly prepared grave. Still, his presence lingers. A certain light, a prayer’s cadence, a warm salaam—all stir his memory. Though gone, he remains my compass.

Institutions like the Memorial Library in Toronto and the Hall in Mombasa bear his name. However, his truest legacy lives in the Zainabiya Child Sponsorship Scheme. “Education connects a child to their God-given potential,” he’d say. Each supported child is a verse in that living poem.

He trusted youth. Not as a gamble—but as a strategy. “Elders give roots. Youth provide branches reaching for the sun.” That’s why I stepped down from leadership at 53—to make space for the next generation. Not just succession, but partnership; that’s what Mulla taught me.

His multilingual gift wasn’t about tongues—it was about reaching hearts. “The message is constant,” he’d say, “but the medium must evolve.”

Philosophical Echoes: Wisdom That Spans Traditions

Now, in the twilight of my life, I often reflect on the quiet brilliance of Mulla Asghar’s mind—how naturally it resonated with the world’s great philosophies. He introduced me not only to Muslim thinkers like Mulla Sadra, Al-Ghazali, and Ibn Sina, but also to the Vedas, the Stoics, Krishnamurti, and the depth of Urdu poetry. Today, when I read them, I hear his voice woven between the lines.

Like the Vedic karma yog, he lived for selfless service. “Do what is right, not what is easy,” he’d remind us. During the Somalia crisis, when many felt helpless, he said, “We cannot do everything, but we must do something—and do it well.” That was Stoicism in action—calm, resolute, real. He embodied Krishnamurti’s open-mindedness—listening more than speaking, adjusting not out of hesitation but humility. His guidance came not from ego, but from clarity grounded in evolving truth.

One of the other gifts of Mulla Asghar’s companionship was how he opened my heart to the depth and beauty of Urdu poetry of Mir, Ghalib, and Iqbal. It wasn’t just verse—it was vision. Over time, I began to see how his leadership mirrored the very spirit captured in lines like these from Allama Iqbal:

Sabaq phir padh sadaqat ka, shujaat ka, adalat ka;
Liya jayega tujh se kaam, duniya ki imamat ka.
Learn the lessons of truth, courage, and justice—
For you will be called to lead the world.

These weren’t just words to him. They were a roadmap. He lived them—leading not only the 150,000-strong Khoja community but speaking to the conscience of the global Shia world. And for those of us who had the honor of walking even a part of the journey with him, that legacy is not just remembered—it’s lived.

Learning from Mulla wasn’t academic. It wasn’t instruction. It was an immersion. You didn’t study him, you absorbed him: the cadence of his voice,  the deliberation of his silence, the glint of a smile when someone surprised him with insight. He is gone from our sight, but not from our path. In the quietest decisions I make, I feel his whisper. In the toughest moments of principle, I hear his voice.

This was the Mulla I knew.
This is the light he left behind.
This is the torch we must carry.

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Dr. Hasnain Walji is the former Secretary General, Vice President, and President of the World Federation. He currently heads the World Federation Khoja Heritage Project. A prolific writer, speaker, and researcher, he is also the author of 26 books on nutrition from a naturopathic perspective and producer of the acclaimed documentary The Khoja—A Journey of Faith.

Cheerios hastily eaten in the predawn dark before the start of a Ramadan fast, only to break it alone over take-out. Attending a Muharram Majlis with sincerity, only to find that your clothing color was a faux pas that became a source of gossip. The realization that people in your religious community casually use words in their mother-tongue that denigrate your skin color. These are just some of the social hurdles that people who accept Islam encounter upon engaging with a Muslim community. 

As Muslim communities establish deeper roots in countries like the United States, Canada, and the UK, the need for supporting people who convert to Islam will only grow. When the “issue of converts” is addressed in Muslim spaces—whether through literature, social media, the pulpit (minbar), or dedicated forums—the focus often lands on isolated challenges. While these issues are essential to discuss and resolve, the proposed solutions are often offered in a piece-meal fashion: invite your convert community members to ifṭār gatherings, be lenient with converts regarding communal etiquette, and the common “don’t be a racist.” Though well-meaning and helpful, this piecemeal approach does little to convey a holistic understanding of the conversion experience. Without that broader picture, communities struggle to develop a coherent and sustained strategy for meaningful convert support.

Setting the Stage

The American Shīʿī community must engage in an honest assessment of its current capacity, its (de)prioritization and often limited interest in supporting new Muslims, or establishing meaningful pathways for sincere seekers of truth. Based on over 18 years of engagement with the national Shīʿī community—and, more importantly, through heartfelt conversations with converts old enough to be my grandparents—I’ve reached a sobering conclusion: we are, for the most part, deeply underprepared to carry out meaningful and sustained work that truly supports converts.

Some might point to a handful of communities that excel in this area and suggest that our work is already done. But we must be honest: “an exception by definition contravenes the norm. We can acknowledge the exceptions. We can celebrate them, even. But ultimately we have to deal with the norm.”((https://stevesalaita.com/no-resurrection-the-life-and-death-of-the-modern-university/))

I also want to note that there may be good and justifiable reasons for explaining our community’s blindspots and weaknesses in terms of both individual and communal ability to support converts—histories of marginalization, economic reasons, the continued flow of migration, other institutional priorities, etc. However, examining those reasons is outside the scope of this paper. For those who believe that it is a good idea to bulk up our capacity for supporting seekers and converts, we need to begin the work of exploring how.

The Qurʾān provides us with a fundamental principle that we should build upon in this regard. In Sūrat al-Naḥl—the Chapter of the Bee—Chapter 16, Verse 125, God says to the Prophet:

Invite to the way of your Lord with wisdom and good advice and dispute with them in a manner that is best. Indeed your Lord knows best those who stray from His way, and He knows best those who are guided.((All translations of the Qurʿān are from Ali Quli Qarai, The Qurʾan with a Phrase-by-Phrase English Translation, 6th ed. (self pub., Ali Quli Qarai, 2018).)) 

Regarding the phrase “Invite to the way of your Lord with wisdom,” there is debate within the exegetical (al-tafsīr) literature about whether the phrase “with wisdom” refers to the content (al-maḍmūn) offered to the audience, or to the mode or way (al-uslūb) one engages with the other. In the first analysis, the verse means “Invite to the way of your Lord by way of teaching them the Qur’an or elucidating a rational argument” or other similar formulations that are encompassed by the meaning of “a word of Wisdom.” In the second analysis it means “Invite to the way of your Lord in a wise way.”

Utilizing the second analysis, the upshot of the verse is that the way of your calling must put things in their proper place—a gloss of the heart of the word often translated as “justice”: al-ʿadl, which is closely associated with “wisdom,” al-ḥikmah. While truth in content is essential, the caller to God must use a wise method by means of  recognizing the complex components of the listener’s psyche. They must be lenient when wisdom calls for it, and brutally direct when necessary. They must explain issues in detail when the time calls for it, or offer generalities of complicated ideas when that will be most effective. They may need to be familiar with the audience’s racial, class, regional, or national background, their gendered experience, their age, their level of intellect, and any other relevant category of identity and experience that helps the caller’s communication resonate with the audience. In all cases, the person calling people to the Truth must have depth of character and knowledge, breadth of experience, and strength of emotional intelligence.((See the extended discussion on this phrase in Muḥammad Ḥusayn Faḍlallah, Min Waḥy al-Qurʾān, 2nd ed., vol. 13 (Beirut: Dar al-Malāk, 1419/1998), 321-328.))

With this second reading in mind—and extending it as a method for both inviting non-Muslims to Islām and strengthening the belief and practice of Muslims—we must develop a robust discourse on conversion. This discourse should equip community organizers, scholars, and Muslims at large with the conceptual tools and insights into the convert experience necessary to inform our organizational efforts, community etiquettes, and cultural norms. Only then can we build communities that not only support converts but are also genuinely receptive to seekers and nurturing for all who walk the path of faith.

Toward this end, I offer a rudimentary typology of convert experiences. In an upcoming paper I will offer a brief sketch of three, interdependent stages of the conversion experience. These two articles are aimed at starting an exchange of ideas to help both communities and converts understand and navigate the convert journey. I encourage those who disagree with the picture I paint to offer alternatives—through discussion and disagreement, we can grow. 

Providing a conceptual background to conversion experiences and stages of growth serves as a first step in mapping the convert experience, and supporting our collective ability to effectively commune with, educate, and socially foster converts. For Legacy((I use “Legacy” and “Legacy Muslims” as analogues to “Convert” and “Convert Muslims” to differentiate the religious experience of those who were born Muslim and raised with some semblance of Islamic values, education, and identity from people who were born to a non-Muslim family and were raised without the above.)) communities and individuals alike, I hope that this high-level conceptual map helps them thoughtfully cultivate etiquettes and methods of support for converts with sensitivity and foresight. For converts, I hope that this map is useful for reflecting on their own experiences, feeling a sense of connectedness with other converts, and charting out their individual spiritual, intellectual, and communal paths toward a rich religious life.

What’s in a name? The use of the term “convert”

There are a few semantic issues to tackle first. What are our terms and to whom do they refer?

Convert vs. Revert

There is ongoing debate about the use of “convert” or “revert” as an identifying label for individuals who are not born and raised in a Muslim household and later accept Islam. The impetus to use the term “revert” seems to be founded upon the theologically accepted understanding that everyone is born Muslim. This teaching can be derived from Sūrat al-Rūm 30:30:

So set your heart as a person of pure faith on this religion, the original nature endowed by God according to which He originated mankind (There is no altering Allah’s creation; that is the upright religion, but most people do not know.) 

This teaching is further clarified in various narrations (aḥādīth) found in both Sunnī and Shīʿī collections of narrations. In Shaykh al-Ṣadūq’s al-Tawḥīd he narrates from his chain to Imam al-Ṣādiq, that the Prophet (ṣ) said:

“Every infant is born upon the divine nature (fiṭrah)—meaning [born with] knowledge (al-maʿrifah) that affirms that God (the Mighty and Sublime) is their Creator. This is the meaning of [God’s] statement, ‘If you ask them, “Who created the heavens and the earth?” they will surely say, “God.”’ [Q. 31:25]”

The problem with this term is that “revert”, and related words like “reversion” carry the negative connotation of “regression.” While it is true that the divine nature (fiṭrah) is the original state embedded deep within every human being, the path of Islam—as the final ethical framework and civilizational expression of that fiṭrah—is not a simple return, but a complex and deliberate journey. Embracing Islam involves more than just recognizing God as the Creator; it requires a conscious transformation of one’s worldview, values, and way of life.

Conversion is a fulsome change in the individual’s view of reality, and a shift in their engagement with the world. A convert adopts a new language based on the terms of scripture—the Qurʾān and the teachings of the Prophet and his family—as well as the rational and spiritual meditations and formulations of scholars based on scriptural sources. This new language creates a new lens through which they think through and describe themselves, their Creator, the cosmos, and the relationship between the three.

At the level of “creed” (al-ʿittiqād), conversion is an adoption of a new language that describes and gives meaning to what they are convinced is real—al-Īmān. At the level of “devotional law” (al-sharīʿah((Often imprecisely called al-fiqh.))) and ethics (al-akhlāq) conversion is an adoption of a new language that provides contour, meaning, boundaries, and priorities to the ways in which they behave—al-ʿAʿmāl al-Ṣāliḥah. In sum, conversion is the cultivation of a new devotional lifestyle and culture. I contend that “conversion” is a clearer English term for this process and “convert” is a clearer term for an individual undergoing this process than “reversion” and “revert.”

A Typology of Convert Experiences

Who is included in our term “convert”

When we utilize the term “convert” the immediate sense that comes to mind is “New Muslim.” The issue is more complicated. The convert experience is multilayered. In my usage, I include the following categories of experience:

Non-Muslim to Muslim Categories

1. New Muslim – one who recently became Muslim after previously adhering to a different theology or view of the world((We may also argue that this experience can apply to people who were born to a Muslim father and are considered bi-ḥukm al-muslim during their childhood prior to the Islamic standard for the age of majority (al-bulūgh)—that is that they are treated as if Muslim until maturity because to be Muslim requires an assent (al-taṣdīq) to faith which, in legal terms, is accepted by an individual after the age of majority or upon being able to discern between right and wrong (mumayyiz), which can precede the age of majority—but who were raised without any information about Islam or its culture. This sometimes occurs when the parent raises their children according to the religion of their non-Muslim spouse, or when the parents raise their children according to purely secular norms or the norms of another religion. In this circumstance, the child, though born to a technically Muslim father, is not familiar with the religion or its culture and will share a similar experience as the person born to a non-Muslim family who later converts. This population is small but present.)), and is in the early stages of familiarizing oneself with the Muslim thought and culture. This category is what most immediately comes to mind. The demarcation from “New” to “Veteran” is admittedly hard to define. In my view, one can be considered “New” until they have a sound grasp of basic theology and practice, and are familiar with Muslim community life. 

There are two issues that I need to justify here. “Familiarity with Muslim community” is a prerequisite for emerging from “new Muslim” into veteran status because of the religious nature of communal belonging. It is true that conviction (īmān) is first and foremost an act of will by an individual; conceptually, you can be a Muslim and be completely isolated from the community. However, there are two necessary considerations.  In this paper I am using “convert” as a social category of analysis: and thereby asking how the community best serves converts through education, resource access, and other factors. Second, since the Islamic tradition provides a law that shapes the contours of social interaction and has a society-focused spiritual practice that exalts virtuous social interaction, then experience and familiarity with Muslim community is a useful indicator of one’s fluency with the Islamic tradition. This is precisely because religio-social virtue is expressed through social interaction and is strengthened by repetition. For instance, an individual is best able to strengthen the quality of their control over their anger through deep experience with provocations to the soul and conscience. Additionally, a person best develops humility through overcoming challenges that provoke a sense of pride in the ego. Note the synergistic relationship here: the soul shines through socially-reinforced cleansing of negative attributes that are endemic to the human condition: selfishness, pride, covetousness, etc. Thus, community life drives spiritual purification.

The second issue is regarding the deliberate selection of the terminology. I utilize “familiar with” rather than “integrated in” the Muslim community because integration requires broad acceptance from both sides. This obviously extends beyond the agency of an individual. If a Muslim community stubbornly refuses to acknowledge and integrate new Muslims, this cannot be the fault of the convert. 

2. Veteran Convert – one who became Muslim after previously adhering to a different theology or view of the world and is deeply familiar with Muslim thought and culture

“When is a convert no longer a convert?”((A related question is: why are the children of converts often treated as converts? The enduring status of convert-hood onto their children often leads to the children of converts facing similar social challenges in the community.)) On one hand, this question indicates the enduring power of the superficial understanding of the label, leading the community to treat converts as “New Muslims” until they die. 

On the other hand, this question can raise another contention: should we not abandon the concept and/or term of “convert” altogether because, ideally, New Muslims should become part and parcel of the larger community and thus don’t need a separate label, and “Muslim” is sufficient without another qualifier.  At one level of analysis,  it is true that converts ought to be seen as equal participants in community life, with all of the rights and privileges conferred to them from the community as “Legacy Muslims” as this is the demand of devotional law (al-sharīʿah).

However, at the social level of analysis, “convert” is a useful tool for short-handing the experience of abandoning a prior set of beliefs for an adherence to an Islamic theology and ethical code. This shift often entails an experience of alienation from one’s prior self and history. This shorthand helps us mark the experience of the challenges of alienation from family and friend groups as well as the difficulties—and often failures—of attempting to adopt a new social circle. 

In general, this set of experiences is shared by all converts despite their diversity of ethnic, linguistic, national, class, and racial backgrounds. Despite this diversity, the shared set of experiences creates a thread of camaraderie between converts. Socially, the label “convert” is often a source of positive identity assertion and communal belonging with a subset of the Muslim community.

“Veteran Convert” is used to indicate a further subset of experiences. Using “convert” for “convert programs” or “convert support” can limit our understanding of the convert experience to that of recent adoption of Islam. Using more detailed terms helps us understand that within the larger convert umbrella, there are elders and veterans who have deep wisdom and knowledge—indeed some are themselves seminary-trained students or scholars (ʿulamāʾ). There is a wellspring of wisdom to draw from within the convert community itself to let lead, or consult and work with when creating convert-oriented programming. 

This distinction also helps us understand that there are different categories of convert-oriented programming that are necessary: some must be geared toward New Muslims and others should be inclusive of Veteran Converts’ needs. In a word: convert programming should not be limited to elementary-level topics or programs highlighting the early-phase of conversion.

Intra-Islam Shifts

3. A Muslim who shifted from one path of Islam to the path of the Family of the Prophet—the path of Imāmī Twelve-Imām Islam. 

Some may argue that this is not “conversion” in the conventional sense since it isn’t a change from non-Muslim to Muslim. This shift is inclusive of people who come from Sunnī, Khārijī, and non-Twelve-Imām forms of Shīʿī Islam. However, this type of shift often leads to a similar experience of alienation—from one’s prior convictions, religious language, lifestyle, and sense of self, as well as from family and community. This involves learning new theological and legal terminology, learning and practicing differences in worship (e.g. the form of the formal prayer, al-ṣalāh), a change in the hierarchy and sacrality of historical figures, the challenge of selectively adopting or rejecting non-fundamental((By “non-fundamental” I mean beliefs and practices that are not essential to the Madhhab as a theological and legal path.)) Shīʿī specific customs and culture (e.g. Muharram commemorations), etc. It also often involves a new social dynamic, whereby the person has to adjust to their new religious orientation in social terms: defending their change to their friends and family who may now consider them misguided. In regard to a Sunnī-Shīʿī shift, the individual has to adjust to being labeled and treated as a minority after enjoying a relatively privileged status in the social hierarchy of the Ummah, with all of the psychological implications this entails. This necessitates a process of intellectual and spiritual recalibration as well as social integration into an expanded body of practitioners. Thus, it is—at the very least—convert-adjacent and is included in my analysis of the stages of conversion. 

Conclusion

This typology is offered to add color to the picture in our minds about converts and the convert experience, and to problematize the flat and sometimes stereotypical concepts we may have in mind. Noting the variety of these three experiences will help us tailor our support for converts of various stripes institutionally and on an interpersonal level.

I must also acknowledge the weaknesses of this rudimentary categorization. This typology focuses on the convert’s time spent building an Islamic personality and on the convert’s religious origins. In particular, the distinction between New Muslim and Veteran Convert helps to expand the community’s understanding of the positionality of different types of Muslims in their midst. This nuance should translate into more targeted convert support programs, and a more holistic interpersonal ethic between community members of Legacy and Convert backgrounds. I welcome the production of more complex pictures of the convert experience. There are many more stories to be told and analyses to be written on different axes of identity and experience—including issues of class, race, national-origin, gender, etc.—which will further enhance our understanding of our diverse community. 

In a forthcoming article I will map out three distinct but interdependent stages that a Convert traverses through on their religious journey, in shāʾ Allāh.

The science of hadith critically examines the sayings, actions, and tacit approvals of the Infallibles, ensuring their authenticity through rigorous methodologies. This science remains fundamental, especially in legal studies (fiqh), and is traditionally divided into Dirāyat al-Hadith, Riwāyat al-Hadith, and Rijāl al-Hadith. The Prophet himself encouraged the preservation of his teachings, stating:

 “Whoever writes down knowledge or a hadith from me, the reward will continue to be written for them as long as that knowledge or hadith remains”((Ta’rikh Khulafā’, Suyuti, p. 77)) 

Despite its central role in seminaries, the public often misunderstands technical terms like sahih, da’if, and hasan, assuming literal meanings. For instance, a da’if classification does not denote fabrication, rather it highlights weaknesses or unknown narrators in the chain. This discussion outlines how scholars historically authenticated hadith, affirming the reliability of our sources in aqaid, fiqh, and other related fields. 

This article begins by examining the historical methods of hadith authentication, focusing on the periods before and after ʿAllāmah al-Ḥillī. This division is significant due to a notable shift in the approach to authenticating hadith between these two eras. Prior to ʿAllāmah al-Ḥillī, early scholars emphasized wuthūq al-ṣudūr—confidence in the attribution of a narration to an Imām. Being closer in time to the Imāms, they had access to various contextual indicators that enabled them to assess the reliability of narrations. As time progressed, many of these indicators were lost due to historical and sociopolitical factors. In response to this shift, ʿAllāmah al-Ḥillī introduced a new methodology that prioritized the scrutiny of the chain of transmission (isnād) to determine the authenticity of a narration. This paper explores these evolving methodologies and analyzes their implications for the science of hadith authentication.

History of Hadith Formation

During his lifetime, the Prophet extensively explained the Qur’an and Islamic rulings. After the Hijrah, as Islamic rulings expanded to both personal and societal matters, the Prophet increasingly explained and interpreted the Qur’an through his statements. However, after his passing, the first two caliphs banned the transmission and recording of hadith—a ban lasting nearly a century, lifted only during the reign of Umar ibn Abd al-Aziz. Abu Bakr ordered the destruction of recorded narrations, and Umar discouraged hadith dissemination to focus on the Qur’an. Some Sunni sources report that ʿUmar considered compiling hadith but ultimately refrained from doing so.((Kanz al-ʿUmmāl, al-Muttaqī al-Hindī, vol. 10, p. 291, Hadith 29474)) Sunni scholars have offered various explanations for the early prohibition on recording hadith. Chief among them were concerns that hadith might be confused with the Qur’an and fears((Kanz al-ʿUmmāl, al-Muttaqī al-Hindī, vol. 10, p. 291, Hadith 29474)) of discord among Muslims.((Tadhkirat al-Ḥuffāẓ, al-Dhahabī, vol. 1, p. 9)) Al-Dhahabī attempts to justify Abū Bakr’s prohibition on hadith transmission by arguing that his intention was to verify and investigate reports, not to close the door to narration. However, historical evidence contradicts this interpretation; as the ban contributed to the loss of many narrations and increased the risk of fabrication. In contrast, the Shīʿa community preserved the prophetic teachings with greater continuity. Imam Ali compiled the first hadith collection, which was safeguarded by subsequent Imams and occasionally referenced in later traditions.((Ta’sis al-Shia, p. 279)) The efforts intensified during the time of Imam al-Baqir and Imam al-Sadiq, leading to 400 foundational works known as al-Usul al-Arba‘ Mi’ah. Later, during Imam al-Ridha’s era, hadith transmission flourished, with 360 individuals narrating from him directly.((Musnad Imam Ridha, Shaykh ʿAzīzullāh ʿAṭṭārdī, vol. 2, p. 70))

History of Hadith Formation: Historical Methods of Hadith Authentication

Throughout Islamic history, various methodologies for hadith authentication have been proposed. A major turning point occurred during the era of ʿAllāmah Ḥillī. During ʿAllāmah Ḥillī’s era, with the expansion of fiqh and uṣūl, increased interaction with Sunni scholarship, loss of the contextual indicators present during the earlier period but lost during Allamah’s time and the intermixing of authentic and weak narrations, ʿAllāmah Ḥillī and his teacher Aḥmad ibn Ṭāwūs al-Ḥillī introduced a different/more streamlined method—the science of dirāyah.((Mashriq al-Shamsayn, p. 271)) They categorized narrations using terms like ṣaḥīḥ (authentic), ḥasan (good), and mawthūq (reliable). Although Shaykh Bahāʾī credits ʿAllāmah Ḥillī with founding dirāyah, earlier traces of this discipline are evident in earlier scholars’ works and the narrations of the Imams.((Mashriq al-Shamsayn wa Iksīr al-Saʿādatayn maʿa Taʿlīqāt al-Khwājūʾī, vol. 1, p. 33)) However, previous usage was not independent but complemented by contextual analysis. While ʿAllāmah Hilli systematized the classification of hadith, he sometimes applied earlier methodologies. For example, in al-Khulāṣa, he states that al-Ṣadūq’s chain to Abū Maryam al-Anṣārī is ṣaḥīḥ, despite the presence of Abān ibn ʿUthmān, based on the Shiʿa community’s consensus about narrations reliably transmitted from them.((Mashriq al-Shamsayn, vol. 1, p. 270))

Thus, in this discussion, the historical development of hadith authentication is divided into two phases:

• Pre-ʿAllāmah Ḥillī
• Post-ʿAllāmah Ḥillī

Pre-ʿAllāmah Ḥillī: Wuthūq Ṣudūrī

Before ʿAllāmah Ḥillī, many scholars employed several methods in the evaluation of hadith. For instance Sheikh Mufid utilized multiple methodologies to assess narrations. One of these was Naqd-e matn-maḥwar or text-based criticism in which the validation and evaluation of the narrations conducted by comparing their content against definitive sources and criteria of religious knowledge namely, the Noble Qur’an, reason (ʿaql), Sunnah, or external sources such as established historical facts and empirical realities.((Al-Masā’il al-Ṣāghāniyya, Shaykh al-Mufīd pp 90)) Another widely adopted method was the principle of wuthūq ṣudūrī, that is, confidence in the attribution of a narration to an Imam. The reliability of narrators was only one of several contextual indicators assessed, rather than being the sole criterion. Early scholars, including al-Kulaynī, Shaykh al-Ṣadūq, and al-Muḥaqqiq al-Ḥillī, adhered to this methodology.

Among the contextual indicators employed were:

1. Presentation of Books to the Imams and Their Endorsement

A crucial indicator was the presentation of compiled hadith works (aṣl or kitāb) to the Imams for verification. Approval of such works by the Imams served as strong evidence of their authenticity. For instance Ubaydullah ibn ʿAlī al-Ḥalabī presented his work to the Imam, who endorsed it.((Wasāʾil al-Shīʿa, Shaykh Ḥurr al-ʿĀmilī, vol. 20, p. 98)) Conversely, Yunus ibn ʿAbd al-Raḥmān presented narrations heard in Kūfa, and the Imam rejected some of them.((Ikhtiyār Maʿrifat al-Rijāl, Shaykh al-Ṭūsī, vol. 1, p. 224)) Al-Kulaynī records such events in al-Kāfī((vol. 7, p. 324)), where a narration mentions that Yunus presented a book to Imam al-Riḍā (A), who affirmed its authenticity.

Later jurists, such as Ṣāḥib al-Jawāhir and al-Muḥaqqiq al-Ardabīlī, heavily relied on such indicators. For example, in discussions on diyāt, they cite Zarīf’s work as reliable based on its endorsement by an Imam. However later scholars who are proponents of the sanad method, like al-Shahīd al-Thānī doubted its chains due to figures like al-Ḥasan ibn ʿAlī ibn Faḍḍāl and Sahl ibn Ziyād((Rawḍat al-Bahiyyah, vol. 10, p. 253; vol. 7, p. 322)) and thus considered the book as weak in its categorization. Thus, endorsement by the Imam of compilations was a vital method of authentication.

2. Appearance of Hadiths in Multiple Aṣl

The aṣl were independent compilations by early Shīʿī narrators who directly heard narrations from the Imams. Their authenticity was highly trusted because they minimized copying errors. Usul al-Arbaʿ Miʾah played a major role. Scholars like Mirzā Nāʾīnī and Waḥīd Bahbahānī considered a hadith’s inclusion in al-Kāfī a strong sign of authenticity. Fayḍ Kāshānī noted that hadiths appearing in multiple Usul or compiled by one of the Aṣḥāb al-Ijmāʿ narrators were deemed authentic.((al-Wāfī, vol. 1, p. 22)) Similarly, Āqā Buzurg Tihrānī asserts that the appearance of a narration in several Usul strengthens its credibility.((al-Dharīʿah ilā Taṣānīf al-Shīʿah, vol. 2, p. 126)) Al-Muḥaqqiq al-Dāmād also stressed on reliance on Usul for verification.((al-Rawāshiḥ al-Samāwīyah, vol. 1, p. 99))

3. Comparing Manuscripts

Scholars traditionally compared manuscripts to detect interpolations or distortions. This method remains essential in verifying the text and chain of a hadith. For example, Shaykh Ṭūsī and Shaykh al-Kulaynī both transmit a narration concerning the legal rulings for women in nifās (bleeding after childbirth), but notable textual differences appear:

Shaykh Ṭūsī records:

“The post-natal woman (al-nufasāʾ) refrains from prayer during the days she would normally remain [in bleeding], then she performs ghusl just as the woman with irregular bleeding (al-mustaḥāḍah) does.”

and elsewhere:

“The post-natal woman (al-nufasāʾ) refrains from prayer during the days of her bleeding… then she performs ghusl and prays just as the woman with irregular bleeding (al-mustaḥāḍah) does.”

In al-Kāfī, Shaykh al-Kulaynī transmits:

“The post-natal woman (al-nufasāʾ) refrains from prayer during the days of her bleeding… then she performs ghusl and acts as the woman with irregular bleeding (al-mustaḥāḍah) does.”

The phrase “tuṣallī kamā taghtasil al-mustaḥāḍa” (“she prays as the mustaḥāḍa bathes”) in the second narration (Tahdhīb) appears incoherent. The more accurate reading, preserved in al-Kāfī, is “taʿmal kamā taʿmal al-mustaḥāḍa” (“she acts as the mustaḥāḍa acts”). All three transmissions ultimately trace back to Nawādir Ibn Abī ʿUmayr. The variation arises from differences between the transmissions of Ḥusayn ibn Saʿīd, Muḥammad ibn ʿAbd Allāh ibn Zurārah, and the widely accepted recension transmitted by Ibrāhīm ibn Hāshim.

Manuscript comparison is also essential in assessing chains of transmission (isnād). For instance, in Kitāb al-ʿIlal, Ibn Bābawayh narrates through:

Muhammad ibn Mūsā ibn al-Mutawakkil → ʿAlī ibn al-Ḥusayn al-Saʿd Ābādī → Aḥmad ibn Abī ʿAbd Allāh al-Barqī → Ismāʿīl ibn Mihrān → Aḥmad ibn Muḥammad ibn Jābir → Zaynab bint ʿAlī → Faṭima (PBUH).

However, in another version transmitted by Shaykh al-Ṣadūq:

Muhammad ibn Mūsā ibn al-Mutawakkil → ʿAlī ibn al-Ḥusayn al-Saʿd Ābādī → Aḥmad ibn Muḥammad ibn Khālid al-Barqī → his father → Ismāʿīl ibn Mihrān → Aḥmad ibn Muḥammad al-Khuzāʿī → Muḥammad ibn Jābir → ʿAbbād al-ʿĀmirī → Zaynab bint ʿAlī → Faṭima (PBUH).

Comparison reveals omissions and inaccuracies in the former chain, where two narrators are missing and some names are incorrectly recorded.((Pajūhishī dar ʿIlm al-Rijāl, Akbar Turabi Shahriza’i, pp. 23–24))

Thus, the practice of comparing manuscripts and variant transmissions remains a crucial tool for verifying both the textual integrity and the authenticity of hadith chains.

4. Examination of the Chain of Narration

Early scholars did not assess the authenticity of a hadith solely based on the reliability of its chain of transmission (isnād), nor did they reject a narration purely due to a weak chain. Rather, the strength of the isnād was one of several indicators used to evaluate a report. Critical to this process was also the analysis of the hadith’s content. Nonetheless, knowledge of the narrators and their attributes remained essential for jurists, as rulings could not be issued without this assessment given that some were known fabricators, others narrated from weak authorities, some lacked precision or were prone to forgetfulness, and others, while not Imāmī, transmitted sayings from the Imams—requiring further scrutiny to determine alignment with Imāmī jurisprudence or the possibility of taqiyya.((ʿUddat al-Uṣūl, al-Shaykh al-Ṭūsī, vol. 1, p. 150))

The Imams themselves warned about tampering:

For instance, Imam al-Ṣādiq warns:

“Mughīrah ibn Saʿīd tampered with the books of my father’s companions and inserted narrations not from my father”.((Ikhtiyār Maʿrifat al-Rijāl [Rijāl al-Kashshī, al-Shaykh al-Ṭūsī, vol. 1, p. 223))

Similarly, Imam ʿAlī, when asked about contradictory reports, explained:

“One who heard something from the Prophet but did not memorize it accurately would convey it as he understood it. He does not intentionally lie, but he acts upon it and claims: ‘I heard it from the Messenger of Allah’”.((Nahj al-Balāgha, sermon 210))

At times, scholars explicitly rejected narrations based on isnād analysis. Shaykh al-Ṣadūq, for example, dismisses certain reports because:

“These are solitary reports that neither establish certainty nor obligate action. Moreover, their narrator, ʿImrān al-Zaʿfarānī, is unknown, and both chains include weak transmitters whose solitary reports we do not act upon”. ((al-Istibṣār, Shaykh al-Ṭūsī, vol. 2, p. 76))

Other contextual indicators included the acceptance of a narration by Qummī scholars, the reliability of Shaykh al-Ṣadūq’s mursalāt, reliance on the Aṣḥāb al-Ijmāʿ, and narrations transmitted by certified teachers (shuyūkh al-ijāzah).

Hadith Assessment Post-ʿAllāmah Ḥillī: Wuthuq Sanadi

In the post-ʿAllāmah Ḥillī period, a distinct methodology emerged wherein jurists assessed hadiths solely based on the soundness of the isnād (chain of transmission). According to this approach, a narration must possess an authenticated and verified chain for it to be accepted; any flaw in the chain—regardless of supporting contextual indicators—would result in the rejection of the report. Among the past four centuries of juristic practice, the most notable proponent of this method is Ayatullah al-Khu’i. Preceding him, it was widely adopted by Shāhīd al-Thānī and Mullā Aḥmad al-Muqaddas al-Ardabīlī the author of Majmaʿ al-Fāʾida wa al-Burhān.((Dars-e Khārij-e Fiqh, Ustād Muḥammad Ḥasan Rabānī Bīrjandī, 14/0/1401 solar))

Within this framework, the trustworthiness (tawthīq) of narrators is established either through specific attestations or through general indications.

Specific attestations (tawthīq khāṣṣ) refer to judgments of trustworthiness (ʿadālah or thiqah) pertaining to one or a few narrators, without relying on a broader criterion applicable to others. 

Several methods exist within this category:

First Method: An attestation is derived from statements issued by one of the Infallible Imams, either explicitly, implicitly, or necessarily affirming a narrator’s reliability. For example: Ḥamdawayh reports:

“Muḥammad ibn ʿĪsá ibn ʿUbayd and Yaʿqūb ibn Yazīd narrated to me from Ibn Abī ʿUmayr, from Abū al-ʿAbbās al-Baqbaq, from Abū ʿAbdillāh (al-Ṣādiq, peace be upon him), who said: ‘There are four people most beloved to me in life and death: Burayd ibn Muʿāwiyah al-ʿIjlī, Zurārah ibn Aʿyan, Muḥammad ibn Muslim, and Abū Jaʿfar al-Aḥwal.’”.((Ikhtiyār Maʿrifat al-Rijāl (Rijāl al-Kashshī), al-Ṭūsī, p. 135, ḥadīth 215))

The chain here is considered ṣaḥīḥ, as all transmitters are Imāmī and ʿādil.

Second Method: Explicit attestations from early rijāl scholars such as Shaykh Ṣadūq, al-Najāshī, al-Kashshī, and al-Ṭūsī. For instance, al-Najāshī writes:

Third Method: Endorsements by later scholars (mutaʾakhkhirīn)

Fourth Method: A jurist compiles various indicators to attain certainty regarding a narrator’s trustworthiness. This method, considered the most reliable, requires comprehensive expertise in the narrators’ biographies, transmission patterns, precision, teachers, students, and contextual factors.

For example, regarding Ḥārith ibn Abī Jaʿfar Muḥammad ibn Nuʿmān:

• Al-Najāshī notes his work was transmitted by trusted companions, including al-Ḥasan ibn Maḥbūb.
• Al-Ṭūsī mentions he authored an aṣl and identifies him among the companions of Imam al-Ṣādiq (peace be upon him).
• Al-Waḥīd al-Bahbahānī and others relied on his narrations, recognizing their precedence even over other sound reports in cases of contradiction.

The cumulative indicators—widespread transmission, association with primary sources, narrating through figures of ijmāʿ, and scholarly preference for his narrations—establish confidence in his reliability.((Pajūhish dar ʿIlm al-Rijāl, p. 196))

In hadith evaluation, general attestations (tawthīq ʿām) refer to the validation of a group of narrators based on their inclusion within recognized categories or fulfillment of specific criteria. A narrator’s reliability (thiqah) may be established if they belong to the Aṣḥāb al-Ijmāʿ, are narrated by them directly or indirectly, or are transmitted by one of the three principal scholars: al-Kulaynī, al-Ṣadūq, or al-Ṭūsī. Other indicators include being among the teachers (mashāyikh) of al-Najāshī, appearing in the transmission chains of key works such as the Tafsīr of ʿAlī ibn Ibrāhīm al-Qummī or Kāmil al-Ziyārāt, narrating a large number of traditions, or being the subject of scholarly expressions of mercy (taraḥḥum). Frequent narration by al-Kulaynī, appearing in chains classified as ṣaḥīḥahا (authentic) through taṣḥīḥ al-isnād, or serving as a representative (wakīl) of an Imam are also strong indicators. Additionally, reliability may be inferred if a narrator received scholarly authorization (ijāzah), authored an original work (aṣl), was affirmed as trustworthy by later scholars, or was narrated by notable figures such as the Banū Faḍḍāl or Jaʿfar ibn Bashīr. Being counted among the teachers of the Qummī scholars or those of al-Ṣadūq further strengthens the presumption of a narrator’s trustworthiness.

A Modern Approach to Hadith Authentication

As previously outlined, reliance solely on the transmitters within a chain (isnād) does not yield definitive proof of a narration’s authenticity, given that narrations with weak chains may nonetheless align reliably with Shi’i doctrinal principles. Consequently, a more comprehensive and nuanced method is necessary—one that synthesizes all available evidence to reach a sound judgment. Among the emerging approaches is the Fihristi method, pioneered by Ayatollah Aḥmad Madadī al-Mūsawī in his dars al-khārij lectures and systematized by his students in works such as Nigāhī bi Daryā (Ayatollah Madadi), Bāzsāzī-i Mutūn-i Kuhn-i Ḥadīth-i Shīʿa (Sayyid Muḥammad Emādī), and Fahāris al-Shīʿa (Mehdī Khodāmīān).

Tahlīl-i Fihristī (تحلیل فهرستی) evaluates narrations through a cumulative process of compiling, analyzing, and weighing evidence to establish the degree of confidence in a narration’s reliability. It is a dynamic, evolving methodology wherein new findings continually refine or correct earlier conclusions. Unlike classical ʿilm al-rijāl, which aims to classify narrations rigidly as ṣaḥīḥ, ḥasan, muwaththaq, or ḍaʿīf, Tahlīl-i Fihristī assesses narrations on a continuum of credibility, determined by the accumulation of contextual indicators. This method recognizes that the authenticity of a hadith is not a mechanical process waiting to be discovered, but rather a confidence-based judgment formed through critical evaluation.

A secondary contribution of the Fihristi method is its illumination of historical processes. For instance, while the transmission history of narrations in al-Bukhārī’s Ṣaḥīḥ remains largely obscure regarding the shift from oral to written forms, many Shīʿī transmissions offer clearer historical trajectories. An example is the chain: 

ʿAlī ibn Ibrāhīm → his father → Ḥammād → Ḥarīz → Zurārah → Abū Jaʿfar (ʿa). While Abū Jaʿfar (ʿa) transmitted orally, Zurārah may have committed the narration to writing. Ḥarīz, who definitively authored a book, transmitted it to Ḥammād, who likewise preserved it in writing. This written corpus was subsequently transmitted to Qom by Ibrāhīm ibn Hāshim and eventually to al-Kulaynī, illustrating a traceable historical pathway.((Madadī, Advanced Fiqh, 1396/8/2 [November 23, 2017])) 

In addition to mapping out the historical trajectory of transmission, the Fihristi method also substantiates the authenticity of a narration by locating it within early authoritative compilations that can be reliably traced back to the Infallible Imams (ʿa). Through this process, the method reconstructs a chain of contextual and historical indicators that enhance epistemic certainty. As such, the authenticity of a hadith, within this framework, is directly linked to the credibility of the source in which it is preserved. Thus the narration’s validity becomes as sound as that of the book itself.((Arzyābī-ye ḥadīth be ravesh-e “taḥlīl-e fehrestī”; didgāhhā va mabānī, Sayyid Reżā Shīrāzī and Maḥmūd Malakī, pp. 35–36.)) 

When a narration possesses both rijālī and fihristi credibility, its content is further evaluated across three historical stages: (1) the context of issuance, (2) the reaction of the Ahl al-Bayt (ʿa), and (3) its transition into fatwā (legal ruling).

It is evident that this methodology necessitates a profound and ijtihādī mastery of hadith sciences and cannot be employed without first undergoing rigorous and comprehensive scholarly training in the discipline.

Conclusion

The authentication of hadith has always been a critical and dynamic endeavor within Islamic scholarship, evolving alongside the intellectual and societal needs of the Muslim community. Many early scholars prioritized wuthūq ṣudūrī—confidence in attribution—by relying on contextual indicators such as the endorsement of hadith compilations by the Imams, cross-referencing multiple Usul, manuscript comparison, and chain analysis. Over time, especially after the era of ʿAllāmah Ḥillī, the science of dirāyah became more streamlined, shifting focus toward wuthūq sanadī—the reliability of the transmission chain itself. This methodological shift, while adding precision, also led to the dismissal of many narrations that earlier scholars had accepted based on holistic indicators. Understanding these developments highlights not only the rigorous efforts undertaken to preserve the teachings of the Prophet and his progeny but also the diversity of approaches within our scholarly heritage. It is crucial, given the rigorous process of hadith authentication, that narrations are not merely classified as sahih (authentic) or da’if (weak) by the public and subsequently dismissed without thorough scholarly analysis. Labeling a hadith as sahih or da’if without proper examination can result in oversimplifications and distortions of Islamic teachings.

Muḥammad Muḥsin Al-Fayḍ Al-Kāshānī, the prolific Imāmī Shīʿī scholar and mystic-philosopher, opens his renowned tafsīr (Quranic exegesis) with twelve introductory sections that address foundational themes concerning the nature and interpretation of the Qurʾān. In the fourth section, he draws upon narrations from the Ahl al-Bayt (ʿa) to examine some of the more profound and complex dimensions of the Qurʾān: the multilayered nature of verses (wujūh al-āyāt), how its messages may contain profound ambiguity (mutashābihat), and the concept of deeper, esoteric interpretation (taʾwīl).

Al-Kāshānī explains that the divine speech found in the Qurʾān is not superficial. Each verse contains layers of meaning (wujūh) discovered only when the reader dives deeper into its study. Some layers of meaning may be directly accessible to one’s immediate understanding, where multiple meanings may emerge from the apparent sense of the divine text. Scholars have noted that this multi-dimensionality of revelation serves several purposes: it encourages deep contemplation, fosters humility in the reader, offers varying degrees of understanding to people based on their capacities, and reserves the most profound insights for those who are spiritually refined.((Ibn Shahr Āshūb, Mutashābih al-Qur’ān wa Mukhtalafuh))((ʿAllāmah Muḥammad Ḥusayn Ṭabāṭabāʾī, al-Mīzān fī Tafsīr al-Qurʾān, commentary on Qurʾān (3):7.)) However, some higher, more profound layers of meaning remain hidden to the laity or the unworthy, and can only be uncovered by those with access to special sources of knowledge.

This discussion relates closely to the concept of taʾwīl. It is a difficult word to translate, and Muslims have disagreed vociferously as to its nature. Al-Kāshānī appears to believe it refers to a type of Quranic interpretation that is not immediately discerned from the apparent meaning of the text, but is actually the ultimate realization of a verse’s meaning and the fulfillment of Allah’s (swt) original intent. Afterall, the root of the word taʾwīl means to refer back to the origin. For this reason, the taʾwīl goes beyond the apparent meaning of the text, yet remains in harmony with it. To give an example from the author himself, after citing a number of narrations from the Ahl al-Bayt about the verse “Guide us to the Straight Path”((Qurʾān, al-Fātiḥah (1):6)), Al-Kāshānī says, “It has become clear that the Imam is the Straight Path.” While Allah does not explicitly name the Ahl al-Bayt in the verse, the narrations clarify Allah’s intent: this verse refers primarily to them and they are its clearest embodiment. 

Who has access to this deeper type of interpretation, which clarifies the ultimate fulfillment of a verse’s meaning? Of course, Allah Himself, and He may explain and extend meanings found in one verse by means of other verses, alluded to in verses((Such as Āl ʿImrān (3):7 or Al-Qīyāmah (75):18-19)) and narrations such as “One part speaks for another part, and one part testifies to the other.”((Nahj al-Balāghah, Sermon 133)) The Qurʾān also suggests Allah gives this authority to some deserving: “And no one knows its taʾwīl except Allah and those steeped in knowledge (al-rāsikhūna fī al-ʿilm)…”((Qurʾān, Āl ʿImrān (3):7.)) Shīʿī scholars argue from the Qurʾān and the narrations that the Ahl al-Bayt are those vested with this authority by Allah. Thus, only they may unlock the taʾwīl latent within Allah’s book. 

Finally, the author explains the mutashābihāt—the ambiguous or allegorical aspects of the Qurʾān—whose meanings are veiled from those lacking spiritual authority. The Qurʾān adds this type of ambiguity because it was revealed by Allah to address a diversity of intellects and spiritual capacities. The Qur’an, the author explains, speaks to both the elite and the masses, and thus employs language that resonates differently based on the readiness of the audience. Mutashābihāt contain symbols that cannot be fully grasped through surface-level interpretation (tafsīr) alone but require taʾwīl—a return to the verse’s inner, metaphysical reality with Allah. As mentioned before, only Allah and those firmly rooted in knowledge (al-rāsikhūn fī al-ʿilm), namely the Ahl al-Bayt, can truly comprehend these deeper meanings. The author warns against imposing speculative interpretations on such verses, urging instead to preserve the apparent wording, believe in its truth even if one cannot understand them, and entrust the correct knowledge to Allah while awaiting guidance from His authorities on the true meaning of the symbols, parables, and ambiguous statements. Using the parable of the blind men and the elephant, the author illustrates that many perceive only fragments of truth and mistake them for the whole, leading to confusion and contradiction. Thus, the mutashābihāt are not to be acted upon unless clarified by clear (muḥkam) verses or the Ahl al-Bayt. Including mutashābihāt in the Qurʾān provides those who are spiritually ready a pathway to deeper understanding of metaphysical and spiritual realities otherwise beyond reach. Using symbolic language and allegories, mutashābihāt elevates the reader, so long as they remain humble; careful to act only on clear knowledge provided by the Qurʾān, the Prophet, or the Imams. These are the only legitimate gateways to access the taʾwīl which unlocks the deeper meanings of the Qurʾān. 

Below, the respected reader will find the translation to Al-Kāshānī’s fourth introduction. Use these links to find the previous parts of this introduction: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3. 

This excerpt was translated by Azhar Sheraze of the Ahl al-Bayt Islamic Seminary. 

Forth Introduction: On the Meaning of the Wujūh of Qurʾānic Verses, along with a Study of the Mutashābih Verses and their Taʾwīl 

Jābir b. Yazīd al-Juʿfī, a companion of Imam al-Bāqir (ʿa), asked him about the tafsīr of the Qurʾān, and the Imam responded. He asked him about it a second time, and he responded differently. Jābir said, “May I be your ransom! You answered this issue differently just yesterday.” The Imam responded, “O Jābir! The Qurʾān has an inner aspect (baṭn) and this inner aspect itself has another inner aspect. The Qurʾān also has an outer aspect (ẓahr) and this outer aspect itself has another outer aspect. O Jābir, nothing is farther from the understanding of men than the Qurʾān’s tafsīr. A verse may open with one issue and end with another, yet all the while it is an integrated discourse with multiple aspects.”((Al-ʿAyyāshī, Tafsīr al-ʿAyyāshī, 1:12))

Ḥumrān b. Aʿyan, another companion, reports from Imam Al-Bāqir: “The apparent meaning of the Qurʾān refers to the people it was immediately revealed about, and its inner meaning refers to those who act like them.”((Al-ʿAyyāshī, Tafsīr al-ʿAyyāshī, 1:11. Translator’s Note: Maʿānī al-ʾAkhbār adds at the end: “That which was revealed about those people flows towards these people.” This alludes to the exegetical concept of jarī (literally, to flow), frequently invoked by scholars of tafsīr, whereby certain Qurʾānic verses—though revealed about specific historical events—are applied by the Ahl al-Bayt (ʿa) to analogous situations across time. Such verses thus retain ongoing relevance and can be extended to future or contemporary contexts, “flowing” from the text towards instances and persons in the world.))

Another companion by the name of al-Fuḍayl bin Yasār asked Imam al-Bāqir: “There is a narration: ‘There is not a verse in the Qurʾān except that it has an outer aspect and inner aspect, and there is no letter in it except that it has a limit (ḥadd), and for every limit there is a point of ascension (muṭṭalaʿ/maṭlaʿ).’ What does he mean by saying it has an outer aspect and an inner aspect?’” The Imam said, “The outer aspect of the Qurʾān is its revealed aspect (tanzīl) and its inner aspect is its deeper interpretation (taʾwīl). Some of these deeper interpretations have already come to be while others have yet to unfold. These meanings flow just as the sun and the moon flow. The more something from the deeper interpretation comes to be, the more the meanings come to be. Allah says, ‘None knows its deeper interpretation (taʾwīl) except God and those firmly rooted in knowledge.’((Qurʾān, Āl ʿImrān (3):7.)) — We are the ones who know it.”((Al-ʿAyyāshī, Tafsīr al-ʿAyyāshī, 1:11)) The author al-Kāshānī clarifies: “The point of ascension (muaṭṭalaʿ/maṭlaʿ), refers to the place of revealing something from a lofty station, or it can also mean any height a person climbs to in order to attain knowledge. The overall meaning of point of ascension is close to the meaning of taʾwīl and bāṭin, just as the meaning of ḥadd is close to the meaning of tanzīl and ẓahr.”

In a narration, the companion Masʿadah b. Ṣadaqah asked Imam al-Ṣādiq (ʿa) about the terms nāsikh, mansūkh, muḥkam, and mutashābih.((Translator’s Note: Nāsikh refers to an abrogating message, which supersedes a previous message in the Qurʾān. Mansūkh refers to the previous ruling now superseded by the nāsikh. Muḥkam refers to a message in the Qurʾān that is clear and unambiguous, and serves as the basis for interpreting the mutashābih, those messages in the Qurʾān that contain degrees of ambiguity for most people and layers of symbolic meaning.)) The Imam responded: “The nāsikh is established and acted upon. The mansūkh used to be acted upon but is abrogated by the nāsikh. The mutashābih is whatever is obscure (ishtabaha) to the ignorant.”((Al-ʿAyyāshī, Tafsīr al-ʿAyyāshī, 1:11)) In another narration, Imam al-Ṣādiq said, “The nāsikh is established, the mansūkh used to be established, the muḥkam is [immediately] actionable, and the mutashābih is that which it’s different parts appear like each other [leading to confusion]/resemble each other [leading to confusion]/are confused for one another.”((Al-ʿAyyāshī, Tafsīr al-ʿAyyāshī, 1:10))

Imam al-Ṣādiq’s companion,ʿAbd Allāh b. Sinān, narrates that he asked the Imam about the Qurʾān and the furqān.((Translator’s Note: Furqān is a criterion used to distinguish between right and wrong.)) The Imam said, “The Qurʾān is the entirety of the Book and news about what is and will be, while a furqān (criterion) is muḥkam (an established principle) which is [immediately] acted upon. Everything muḥkam is a furqān.((Al-ʿAyyāshī, Tafsīr al-ʿAyyāshī, 1:16)) 

Abū Baṣīr, the renowned companion of Imams al-Bāqir and al-Ṣādiq, reports, “I heard from Imam al-Ṣādiq who said, ‘The Qurʾān contains that which is muḥkam and that which is mutashābih. As for the muḥkam, we believe in it, [immediately] act on it, and are subjected to it. As for the mutashābih, we believe in it but do not [immediately] act on it.’”((Translator’s note: The narration says, “We believe in it and do not act on it.” This does not mean symbolic, ambiguous messages in the Qurʾān are not actionable. However, it means they are actionable only after guidance from other clear (muḥkam) verses and statements of the Ahl al-Bayt.))((Al-ʿAyyāshī, Tafsīr al-ʿAyyāshī, 1:16))

The narrator ʿAbd Allāh ibn Bukayr narrates from Imam al-Ṣādiq: “The Qurʾān was revealed according to the proverb, I address you, but my neighbor should listen too!”((Al-ʿAyyāshī, Tafsīr al-ʿAyyāshī, 1:10 and Al-Kulayni, al-Kāfī 2:235))The author clarifies what this means: “This Arab proverb is used when the speaker directly addresses one person, but in fact intends someone else–other than his direct addressee–to listen.” And this hadith confirms what we developed in the previous introduction.

The companion Ibn Abi ʿUmayr reports from Imam al-Ṣādiq: “Allah never blames His Prophet (ṣ) [in the Qurʾān]. Rather, whenever it seems like this, Allah actually intends to blame another who was previously mentioned in the Qurʾān. For example, ‘Had We not fortified you, certainly you might have inclined toward them a bit.’((Qurʾān, al-Isrāʾ(17):74.)) This is intended for someone other than the Prophet.”((al-ʿAyyāshī 1:10, al-Kāfī 2:235)) The author adds: “Perhaps the meaning of ‘another mentioned previously in the Qurʾān’ is referring to those who deviated from God’s signs, which the Qur’an previously referenced without Allah explicitly naming them. This will become clearer in the sixth part of this introduction.”

There are relevant reports from Sunni hadith chains, wherein the Prophet reportedly states: “The Qurʾān has an outer aspect, an inner aspect, a limit, and a point of ascension.”((Iḥyāʾ ʿUlūm al-Dīn 1:341)) And “The Qurʾān was revealed according to seven modes.((Translator’s Note: The word ‘mode’ is a translation of the word ‘harf’, which translates literally to ‘letter’. A footnote in Tafsīr al-Ṣāfī mentions: Some of the people of insight (ahl al-ma’rifah) have said, “The basis for limiting these modes (literally, letters) to seven is as follows. For every inner and outer aspect are two sides: above and below. This would mean the limits (ḥudūd) possible are four at most. Each limit of an outer aspect does not have below a point of ascension, because a point of ascension is not except from above. This makes for four limits and 3 points of ascension, for a total of seven.”)) Every verse among them has an outer aspect and an inner aspect, and for every limit there is a point of ascension.”((Tafsīr al-Ṭabarī 1:9)) 

Another report states: “Every mode has a limit and a point of ascension.”((Al-ʿAyyāshī, Tafsīr al-ʿAyyāshī, 1:11)) “The Qurʾān has an outer aspect and an inner aspect, and for each inner aspect there is another inner aspect and so on reaching up to seven inner aspects.”((ʿAwālī al-Laʾālī al-ʿAzīziyya fī al-Aḥādīth al-Dīniyya, 4:107))

The Commander of the Faithful, Imam Ali (ʿa) states: “There is not a verse except that it has four meanings: an outer aspect, an inner aspect, a limit, and a point of ascension. The outer aspect is the recitation, the inner aspect is comprehension, the limit is a ruling of what is permissible or forbidden, and the point of ascension is what Allah truly means by the verse.”((Mizan al-Hikmah, 3:74))

Additionally, Sunni sources mention a number of other relevant narrations: “Imam Ali was asked, ‘Did Allah’s Messenger give you any part of the revelation that is not contained in the Qurʾān?’ He said, ‘I swear by the One who split grain and created the soul, no. He only gives a servant understanding of His book.”((Iḥyāʾ ʿUlūm al-Dīn, 1:333)) Imam al-Ṣādiq said, “The book of Allah is based on four things: expression (ʿibārah), indication (ishārah), subtleties (laṭāʾif), and inner-realities (ḥaqāʾiq). The expression is for the laity, indication is for the elites, subtleties are for Allah’s Awliyāʾ(saints), and the inner-realities are for the Prophets.”((Biḥār al-Anwār, 92:103))

Al-Kāshānī then provides an extended explanation for the above-mentioned reports: 

Truly explicating the symbolic meanings (mutashābih) and their deeper interpretation (taʾwīl) would require an extended discussion of a profound nature. It would require us to open a single door of knowledge, which, for the worthy, will open a thousand more. May Allah grant success. 

Every meaning among the many meanings [of the Qurʾān] has a reality (ḥaqīqah) and a spirit (rūḥ), as well as a form (ṣūrah) and a container (qālib). Sometimes a single reality may manifest in many different forms and containers. And words are coined for those realities and spiritual essences. Since those realities and spiritual essences subsist in containers [and are not equal to them], the words are being used literally when referencing those realities and spiritual essences. This is because of a kind of unity between the meanings of the words and the realities themselves. For example, the word pen is only coined for an instrument that inscribes forms onto a slate, whether the pen be made of reed, iron, or something else, and whether the slate be made of paper, wood, or something else. In fact, neither the pen nor the slate needs to be physical at all, nor must they necessarily be perceptible to the senses or the intellect. These two terms—pen and slate—are sufficient for any mode of inscription. These words capture both the reality and spirit of the pen and slate.

Therefore, any being that can inscribe knowledge onto the heart’s tablet, it is more appropriate to be a pen, and this is why Allah says: “He taught by the pen. He taught humanity what it did not know.”((Qurʾān, al-ʿAlaq (96):4–5)) Rather, this would be a real pen, whereby the spirit, reality, and definition of “pen” is found within it, without need for anything extraneous.((Translator’s Note: For example, the pen Allah uses would not need material aspects, like ink, plastic, etc, all of which would be extraneous to the essence of the pen.)) As another example, the same applies to the Quranic term al-mīzān (scale), coined for a standard by which something is measured. This one meaning is the reality and spirit of a scale, though it has many different containers and various forms by which scales can be. Some of its containers and forms are physical, like the balance with two pans or a spring scale which measure physical masses. Others, like the astrolabe, measure time and elevation. Yet others, like the scribe-compass, measure arcs and circles; the plumb-bob, verticality; and the ruler, lines. Arabic poetic meter measures poetry, while logic measures philosophy. Sense and imagination measure the faculties of perception, the scales of the Day of Judgment measure our knowledge and deeds, and the complete intellect (al-‘aql al-kāmil) measures universals. We can go on listing other kinds of scales. 

Generally, the measure and scale of each thing is of the same substance as that thing. The word “scale” can be used for all of these instances because the definition of “scale” corresponds to the reality found in all of them. By analogy, this applies to every word and its corresponding meaning.

If you were guided to the spirits (arwāḥ), you yourself would become spiritual, and the doors of the spiritual dominion (malakūt) would open for you, thus making you worthy of companionship with the highest assembly. And what excellent companions they are! All things in the visible world of sense-perception are simply symbols and forms for a spiritual reality in the spiritual dominion (ʿālam al-malakūt), which is the thing’s purified spirit and utter reality. 

The intellects of the majority of people, in truth, are a lower order symbol for the intellects of prophets and those close to Allah (awliyāʾ). They do not speak to the majority of people except by utilizing parables and symbols, because they have been commanded to speak to people at the level of their intellects.((Translator’s Note: The Prophet has said, “We, the group of prophets, have been commanded to speak to people according to the level of their intellects.” (al-Kāfī 1:23))) They are like a person dreaming, in terms of how much they understand the other realm. A person who is sleeping and dreaming normally does not discover anything except through symbols and parables. 

And so, whoever teaches wisdom to one unworthy of it, they may see in their dream that they are hanging pearls on the necks of pigs. Whoever gives the call to prayer in the month of Ramadan before the time of fajr prayer has set it in, may see himself sealing the mouths and private parts of the people, and so on. This is because of the hidden connection between the different realms. Imam Ali says: ‘People are asleep, and awaken only when they die.’((Dustūr Maʿālim al-Ḥikam wa Maʾthūr Makārim al-Shiyam, 97)) At the time of death, they come to truly know the realities of what they had previously only heard about [in the world] through symbols, and they come to understand these spiritual realities, and they finally understand that these [linguistic] symbols are only outer shells [used to describe higher realities]. Allah says, ‘He sends down water from the sky where the valleys are flooded to their capacity, and the flood carries along a swelling scum.’((Qurʾān, al-Raʿd (13):17)) In this verse, water is a symbol for [the spiritual reality of] knowledge, valleys for hearts, and scum upon the water for misguidance. At the end of this verse, Allah calls attention [to something deeper than the outer shell of the apparent words]: ‘Likewise does Allah draw symbols.’((Qurʾān, al-Raʿd (13):17))

Everything that your understanding cannot handle, the Qurʾān presents it to you in a way similar to the way you are during sleep. Your soul during sleep is acquainted with the Preserved Tablet (al-lawḥ al-maḥfūẓ) which presents itself to you with suitable symbols. These symbols need a mode of interpretation to be properly understood, and so taʾwīl operates as a mode of interpreting [these symbols], whereas the tafsīr engages only the outer forms [of the images the soul is seeing].

Since people only speak according to their level of understanding, anything addressed to all people [like the Qurʾān] must include a portion which is accessible to everyone. [This portion includes the allegories, parables, and symbols which almost everyone is acquainted with, but are meant to help the deeper thinkers see more profound meanings.]

The superficial (al-qishriyyah) literalists (al-ẓāhiriyyīn) only perceive superficial meanings. This is like skin and outer covering of the human, which only perceives the outermost shell of those meanings which is on the outer skin and covering [of the book], namely the black ink and visual forms. As for their meanings, their secret, and their reality, no one truly perceives them except for the possessors of insight (ūlū al-albāb) who are steeped in knowledge (al-rāsikhūn fī al-ʿilm). The Prophet alluded to this in his prayer for one of his companions stating: ‘O Allah, grant him deep understanding in religion and teach him the deeper interpretation (taʾwīl).’((Iḥyāʾ ʿUlūm al-Dīn, 1:343)) Each person has their share of this type of deeper understanding—whether that is little or great—and their tasting of it is either incomplete or perfect. They have varying ranks ascending through its  various depths and luminous secrets. As for reaching complete and utmost comprehension —no one can aspire to attain that, even if to explain it, all the sea were made into ink, and all the trees into pens: ‘Say, “If the sea were ink for the words of my Lord, the sea would be spent before the words of my Lord are finished, even if We replenish it with another like it.”’((Qurʾān, al-Kahf (18):109))

From what has been mentioned, it becomes clear why the apparent meanings of verses and narrations related to the ‘Fundamentals of Religion’ (uṣūl al-dīn) seem to differ with each other. This is because these verses and narrations are addressed to various groups and differing intellects, since it was necessary to speak to each of them according to their level of understanding and their spiritual station. With this in mind, all of these verses and narrations are valid and do not differ in essence; this is by no means figurative speech.((Translator’s Note: Of course, the various meanings understood from the Qurʾān are only legitimate if they are sourced in valid authorities.)) 

Consider this through the well-known parable of the blind men and the elephant.((Translator’s Note: In the parables known across cultures and traditions, several blind men each touch a different part of an elephant and describe it differently—one thinks it’s a snake, another a tree, and so on. Their conflicting views reflect their limited experiences. The tale shows how limited perspectives can lead to misunderstanding, and truth is better grasped through deeper, comprehensive awareness.)) Therefore, there are people who do not understand something among the mutashābihāt, because when they interpret these mutashābihāt according to their apparent meanings they contradict what he believes to be established, correct religious principles and true, certain beliefs. These people should confine themselves to the words without alteration, and leave its true understanding to Allah and those steeped in knowledge. Let this person await the winds of mercy from Allah and turn his attention to the gifts which Allah may have still in store for him for the rest of his days.  May he hope that Allah will provide him with a Divine opening or provide him with a command, and whenever Allah decrees a command, it will be fulfilled.  For indeed, Allah has condemned a people for their baseless taʾwīl of ambiguous verses (mutashābihāt): ‘As for those in whose hearts is deviance, they pursue what is ambiguous it, courting temptation, and seeking its taʾwīl. However, no one knows its taʾwīl except Allah and those firmly grounded in knowledge.’” ((Qurʾān, Āl ʿImrān (3):7.))

Childhood is a sacred and foundational stage in Islamic psychology, one that shapes the moral, spiritual, cognitive, and emotional development of an individual. Within the Islamic worldview, human development is viewed as holistic, integrating both physical and metaphysical dimensions and addressing the material, psychological, and spiritual needs of the child. The child encounters the world for the first time, and begins to form emotional and psychological structures that shape their personality, sense of boundaries and limits, self-concept, and understanding of relationships with others. The early years of a person’s life are understood not only as a time for growth and learning but also as spiritually significant, where the soul begins to form its relationship with Allah, the self, and others. This understanding is reflected in the Qurʾān through the wisdom of Luqman the Wise, who addresses his son with advice: “And remember when Luqman said to his son while he was instructing him, ‘O my son, do not associate anything with Allah. Association [with Him] is great injustice.”((Qurʾān, Luqmān (31):13.)) This highlights the responsibility of the parents to address the spiritual and ethical needs of their children, such as the foundational teaching of Tawhid, the existential basis of all creation.

Islamic psychology, also referred to as ʿIlm al-Nafs (literally translated as science of the soul), focuses on understanding the soul (nafs), intellect (ʿaql), and spiritual heart (qalb), and how these interact in the process of human development. Childhood is especially emphasized as it represents the stage where the soul is most impressionable and formative in terms of ethical, spiritual, and psychological development . As Imam Ali (ʿa) says to his son Imam Hasan (ʿa), “The heart of a young person is like an empty, fertile land — whatever is planted into it, it accepts.”((Nahj al-Balāghah, letter 31)) The Qurʾān affirms this as “Allah has brought you out from the wombs of your mothers while you know nothing, and He gave you hearing, sight, and hearts that you might give thanks.”((Qurʾān, al-Naḥl (16):78)) This verse highlights the God-given faculties of perception and reflection, granted at birth but developed through nurturing and engagement with the external world. Although the verse suggests we have no knowledge at birth, Islam clarifies that we have a set of proclivities, inclinations, and moral sensibilities that draw us towards beauty, truth, morality, and God. “So direct your face toward the religion, inclining to truth; the fitrah of Allah upon which He has created people. No change is there in the creation of Allah. That is the correct religion, but most of the people do not know.“((Qurʾān, al-Rūm (30):30)) This tells us that a child’s innate inclination will be towards the truth of the One, the Everlasting. However, the child’s attitudes and desires can be shaped by their environment, and the inclinations of the fitrah can be ignored if a child’s desires run rampant in an unhealthy environment or corrupt society. Therefore a child’s fitrah requires a nurturing spiritual and ethical environment that allows the child to focus on their natural spiritual longings, where they can recognize Allah and His signs, receive the divine teachings of Islam, and integrate its moral fabric into their lives. This is crucial. It also implies that prevailing social and cultural conceptions of right and wrong that deviate from Islamic teachings play a part in the moral and ethical deviations we witness in the world today.

The concept of fitrah is a cornerstone of Islamic psychology. It asserts that children are innately pure, curious, and spiritually inclined toward recognizing and integrating Tawhid into both their individual and communal lives. The responsibility of nurturing and responding to this disposition falls primarily on caregivers and society at large. Children are not born with sin or corruption, but rather with the potential to recognize truth and goodness. When properly nurtured, the fitrah enables them to develop into upright, God-conscious individuals. Conversely, deviation from this natural path often results from poor parenting, neglect, or harmful societal influences, or a failure  to constructively engage children who follow their desires to the wrong end. Thus, Islamic psychology emphasizes the early years as a critical period for instilling virtues such as compassion, honesty, patience, justice, and faith as non-negotiable principles for a fitrah-aligned lifestyle. Psychologically, the formative years are crucial in laying the foundation for a believer to enhance their fitrah through education, knowledge, community, and spiritual practice.  Importantly, this vision is not just an individual, family-based conception of an Islamically integrated childhood, it also encompasses a sense of communal connection and a commitment to social justice. Imam Ali (ʿa) writes to his son Imam Hasan (ʿa): 

I hastened to train you before your heart became hardened and your mind preoccupied, so that you may, through the seriousness of your judgment, receive from affairs that which those with experience have already striven for and tested. In this way, you are spared the burden of seeking, and relieved from the trouble of experimentation. Thus, what came to us through toil comes to you readily, and what was obscure to us becomes clear to you.((Nahj al-Balāghah, letter 31))

The Qurʾān provides directives regarding parental responsibility, and the importance of early moral and spiritual education. In Surah At-Tahrim, the believers are commanded “O you who believe! Ward off yourselves and your families against a Fire (Hell) whose fuel is men and stones…”.((Qur’an, al-Taḥrīm (66):6)) This verse serves as a powerful reminder of the spiritual responsibility entrusted to parents. Imam Muhammad al-Baqir (ʿa) operationalized this teaching by offering developmental guidance: “When a child reaches seven years of age, they should be commanded to pray.”((Wasa’il al-Shīʿah, vol. 3, p. 12)) The instructional nature of this hadith reflects an understanding of childhood development stages, recognizing the child gradually becomes capable of comprehending spiritual responsibilities. Imam al-Ṣādiq has also said, “Let your child play for seven years, then teach them discipline for seven years, and then keep them close to yourself for seven years.”((Biḥār al-ʾAnwār, vol. 101, p. 95)) This gradual approach aligns with developmental psychology, which recognizes that moral reasoning and self-regulation evolve with age.

Love and mercy are foundational principles in Islamic child-rearing. The Prophet Muhammad (ʿa) exemplified profound compassion toward children. He was often seen playing with them, carrying them on his shoulders, and showing affection in ways that were revolutionary in a patriarchal society. In particular, he paid special attention to his grandsons Imams al-Hasan (ʿa) and al-Husayn (ʿa) and  regularly reaffirmed their dignity and honor. This was a counter-cultural practice amongst the Arabs of his time who were ennobled with the message of Islam. He said, “He is not of us who does not show mercy to our young ones and respect to our elders.”((al-Kāfī, vol. 2, p. 165 )) His emotional attunement extended even to moments of worship. On one occasion, he shortened a congregational prayer upon hearing a child crying.((Al-Kāfi, vol. 6, book 1, ch. 34, hadith 4)) This incident is not only a testimony to his empathy, but also a profound example of how Islamic teachings integrate spiritual duties with emotional intelligence and parental sensitivity.

Modeling ethical behavior is a fundamental pedagogical approach in Islamic psychology. The Qurʾān states, “Indeed in the Messenger of Allah you have a good example to follow…”((Qur’an, al-Aḥzāb (33):21)) The Prophet Muhammad (ʿa) and the Imams of the Ahlul-Bayt (ʿa) embodied moral virtues both in their public and private lives.  Their character served as a living example of ethical and spiritual excellence. Children, especially in their early years, are highly impressionable and learn primarily through observation and the imitation of the  behavior of their parents and elders. Imam al-Ṣādiq recounts how his own father, Imam al-Baqir, modeled expressing his fears and concerns to Allah: “Whenever my father was aggrieved by a situation, he would gather the women-folk and children, and would call out to Allah in front. They would say, ‘Amen.’”((Biḥār al-ʾAnwār, vol. 90, p. 316)) Here, we see the father modeling a healthy expression of emotions. Further, the conduct of parents and caregivers has a direct and lasting impact on the child’s character. Islamic teachings advocate consistency, kindness, and patience in adult behavior to help children internalize positive values. Inconsistency, hypocrisy, or harshness can lead to confusion, resentment, and moral dissonance in children. “Be fair with your children, just as you love that they be fair with you, with kindness and respect.”((ʿMakārim al-Akhlāq, vol. 1, p. 220.))

Islamic scholars such as Al-Ghazali, Ibn Khaldun, and Ibn Sina made significant contributions to the understanding of childhood development. Al-Ghazali viewed the child’s soul as a clean slate, ready to receive impressions, and emphasized the importance of early training in adab (manners) and belief.((Nasr, S. H. (2006). The Garden of Truth: The Vision and Promise of Sufism, Islam’s Mystical Tradition. HarperOne)) Ibn Sina classified development into stages: infancy, childhood, later childhood, and youth, each with corresponding educational and emotional needs.((Haque, A. (2004). Psychology from Islamic perspective: Contributions of early Muslim scholars and challenges to contemporary Muslim psychologists. Journal of Religion and Health, 43(4), 357–377. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10943-004-4302-z)) These categorizations are strikingly similar to modern developmental theories, yet they are uniquely distinguished by their integration of spiritual dimensions. The Islamic tradition regards the child not just as a future adult but as a spiritual being in-the-now, with dignity and rights.

Emotional regulation and character formation are central to the Islamic vision of a healthy personality. Children are taught to manage emotions such as anger and jealousy while  cultivating virtues like patience and humility. The Prophet Muhammad (ʿa) said, “The strong is not the one who overcomes the people by his strength, but the strong is the one who controls himself while in anger.”((Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, 6114)) In this context, strength is understood not only as physical power, but psychological maturity, marked  by awareness of boundaries, appropriate use of anger, defensive mechanisms, and rejection of ethically unethical behavior. Islamic educational practices encourage reflection, repentance, and forgiveness, guiding children to take moral responsibility for their actions. The ultimate goal is not merely behavioral conformity but moral autonomy grounded in taqwa(God-consciousness).

Play and creativity are also recognized as essential components of childhood in Islam. Contrary to the misconception that Islam discourages play, prophetic traditions show that play was encouraged as a means of joy, learning, and socialization. The Prophet Muhammad (s) allowed his grandchildren al-Hasan (ʿa) and al-Husayn (ʿa) to play on his back during prayer and was often seen smiling and joking with children, even encouraging playful wrestling.((Biḥār al-Anwār, vol. 43, p. 263)) The Messenger of Allah would crawl on all fours for al-Ḥasan and al-Ḥusayn, and he would say: “What an excellent camel is your camel, and what excellent riders you are!”((Musnad Aḥmad, vol. 2, p. 513)) Such behaviors foster emotional security, creativity, and social competence. Modern psychological research aligns with this, emphasizing that play is crucial for brain development and emotional resilience.

Education in Islam encompasses more than only religious instruction, it includes emotional, ethical, and social learning as well. From an early age , children are taught tawhid (oneness of God), basic acts of worship, and social etiquette. The goal of education is to nurture the intellect (ʿaql), purify the soul (tazkiyah), and strengthen the heart (qalb). Instruction is tailored to the child’s level of comprehension, with emphasis on love, repetition aimed at integration, and modeling- rather than coercion or fear. In today’s digital age, a child’s digital presence, experience, and interactions have become deeply tied to their existential identity. It is essential for parents to guide children in setting boundaries, interacting safely online, recognizing digital opportunities for growth, and avoiding harmful and non-Islamic content. Parents who feel overwhelmed by the demands of digital literacy are encouraged to seek guidance from experts while reinforcing Islamic teachings and principles to promote appropriate behavior in the online environment.

 Islamic tradition took revolutionary steps to affirm the value and dignity of female children. In a society where burying daughters alive was once considered acceptable, Islam honored their existence and introduced spiritual incentives for their care. The Prophet (ʿa) said, “Whoever has three daughters, and he is patient with them, feeds them, gives them drink, and clothes them from his wealth – they will be a shield for him from the Hellfire.”((Al-Khiṣāl, Book 4, Chapter 183, Hadith 1)) This radical shift not only safeguarded the lives of girls but emphasized the psychological and spiritual reward in nurturing them with dignity. Islam unequivocally condems all forms of child abuse and rejects physical violence or emotional abuse as legitimate forms of discipline. Modern psychology aligns with this view, showing that children who experience violence or abuse often suffer long-term symptoms of trauma that persist into adulthood. These effects demand appropriate clinical interventions aimed at healing and dismantling the impact of early childhood trauma.

The community also plays a vital role in child development. Islam promotes a model of collective responsibility, where the broader society contributes to the moral and spiritual upbringing of children. This communal approach ensures that children are surrounded by positive role models and consistent values across various settings, including the home, mosque, and neighborhood. “The believing men and believing women are allies of one another. They enjoin what is right and forbid what is wrong and establish prayer and give zakah and obey Allah and His Messenger. Those—Allah will have mercy upon them. Indeed, Allah is Exalted in Might and Wise.”((Qur’an, Tawbah (9):71))This verse emphasizes the collective nature of religious and spiritual expression and its importance in creating networks that children can model and benefit from while forming their identity, particularly in non-Muslim societies.

In cases where children experience trauma or adversity, Islamic psychology offers both spiritual and therapeutic resources for healing. Practices such as dhikr (remembrance of God), tawakkul (trust in God), and dua (spontaneous prayer) are complemented by compassionate listening, emotional validation, and community support. Islamic counseling methods emphasize building self-worth, reconnecting with one’s fitrah, and processing emotions within a spiritually affirming framework. When integrated with modern clinical theories and therapeutic interventions , Islamic psychology emphasizes holistic well-being, one which does not ignore the spiritual, ethical, and communal needs of children. This integrated approach prepares them to become responsible adults, fulfilling the innate purpose embedded in their fitrah.

Islamic psychology regards childhood as the most formative and spiritually significant stage of life. The Qurʾān and Sunnah offer a deeply compassionate and psychologically sound framework for nurturing the child’s physical, emotional, and spiritual development. The emphasis on fitrah, parental responsibility, mercy, modeling, education, and community support reflects a holistic vision of human flourishing. When these principles are implemented with sincerity and knowledge, they foster the growth of individuals who are not only balanced and ethical but also deeply connected to their Creator. The Islamic model of child development stands as a timeless guide for Muslim families and educators committed to cultivating a generation rooted in faith, compassion, and resilience.