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Islam’s Sacred Story: A Contemporary Retelling-Part 1

By
Syed Rizwan Zamir
-

This is the first installment in a two-part article on the historical thought of Sayyid al-ʿulamāʾ, Sayyid Ali Naqi Naqvi. The article explores the attempts of Sayyid Ali Naqi Naqvi to revive South Asian Shi’i Islam in the 20th century through the ethical and mytho-theological example of Imam Husayn. In this installment, the author first presents Sayyid Naqvi’s lifelong goal of “illuminating Islam” for his South Asian Muslim audience. Then he examines the historical thought of Sayyid Naqvi, wherein the ultimate goal of history is not simply knowing the past, but rather to present ethical lessons that must inform our lives today, and to manifest the ultimate sacred story of Islam. The second installment of this article is available here. 

Introduction

Yes, yes, it is true that in “illuminating Islam”, [in answering] “What is it?” I am unable to find a better [historical] reference than the person of Ḥusayn (ʿa). If I were to clarify the real practical meaning of Islam, then in world history only one person can be found: His name is Ḥusayn (ʿa).[1]La Tufsidū fī al-Arḍ (1935), p. 115.

“Illuminating Islam” underlies Sayyid Ali Naqi Naqvi’s[2]In communal memory, known with his honorific titles “sayyid al-ʿulamāʾ” and “naqqan sāḥib”, Sayyid Ali Naqi Naqvi (1905–1988), is arguably the most prolific (we are looking at over 250 works in Urdu, Persian, and Arabic), widely popular, and revered Indian Shiʿi scholar of the twentieth century. Justin Jones describes him as “one of the subcontinent’s most prominent ʿulamāʾ in the 1930s-1940s,” “the final great mujtahid of South Asia,” and that “after independence he would remain the most well-known, widely published and widely quoted Shiʿa ʿalim in the country for four decades.” (Shia Islam in Colonial India, p. 247) Decades earlier, S. A. A. Rizvi had called him “a very impressive and lucid orator.” (A Socio-Intellectual History of Shiʿi South Asia, vol. II, p. 152) One must also mention Simon Fuchs’ recent study of Shiʿism in Pakistan, where the influence of Sayyid al-ʿulamāʾ on the Shiʿi intellectual and religious landscape of Pakistan have been observed on several occasions. See his In a Pure Muslim Land: Shiʿism between Pakistan and the Middle East (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 2019). entire intellectual corpus. He strove to illuminate Islam for his South Asian Muslim audience—especially the Shiʿi—so that they may successfully survive, even thrive. But survive what? Various attacks and critique from without, and doubts from within regarding the worth of a seemingly declining if not altogether obsolete religious tradition; simply put, a deep “crisis of religion”[3]For a fuller account of this “crisis of religion” and its reception and articulation by Sayyid Naqvi, see chapter 1 of Syed Rizwan Zamir, “Rethinking, Reconfiguring and Popularizing Islamic Tradition: Religious Thought of a Contemporary Indian Scholar” (PhD diss., University of Virginia, 2011). See also footnote 4. for South Asian Muslims. This was during what many have called the “modern age” of Islam, an era defined by not only the prevailing conditions of modernity, but more importantly, the dominance of a modern Western worldview.[4]Given the complexity of the subject, it is extremely inconvenient to attempt here a robust description of modernity and modernism, i.e., the underlying worldview of modernity. The best that can be offered is a general sense of their relevance to our purposes. Through the direct rule of Western colonial powers in the 18th, 19th, and the first half of the 20th centuries, Muslim thought and cultures came into serious contact with Enlightenment-inspired modern Western thought and institutions. Throughout these centuries—and the trend continues to this day—Muslims have grappled with these ideas and institutions, and have continuously assessed their viability for Muslim thought and culture. It is this grappling with modern Western ideas, values, and institutions in colonial times that scholars and Muslim thinkers like Sayyid Naqvi deemed modernity and modernism as significantly new challenges for contemporary Islamic civilization. This “crisis of religion” was articulated clearly quite early in his intellectual career, especially in his 1935 speeches titled La Tufsidu fī al-Arḍ; in fact, beginning in the early 1930s and lasting until his death in 1988, Sayyid Naqvi’s writings and preaching from the venue of Muharram-commemoration gatherings was his partial response to what he saw as a grave “crisis of religion” faced by his Shiʿi community, the larger Muslim population of India, and in fact, all religious communities. This crisis of religion according to Sayyid Naqvi was a result of two broader intellectual and social currents:

  1. The undermining of Islam by Christian and Hindu missionaries;
  2. The undermining of Islamic or religious foundations of any religion through rationalistic, scientistic, and materialistic philosophies.

While the missionaries undermined the religion of Islam, the new philosophies inspired by post-Christian modern Western thought had begun to reduce “religion”—not any religion in particular (Islam or Christianity), but “religion” as such (madhhab)—to an outdated “thing” of a bygone era, with no relevance whatsoever to the modern world. According to Sayyid Naqvi, these new attacks on religion-as-such had made it extremely difficult for the lay piety—whether Sunni, Shiʿi, or of any other religion for that matter—to uphold its basic religious commitments, therefore drawing its adherents often to an “indifference toward religion”, even atheism (lā dīnīyat). Although Sayyid Naqvi acknowledges various other serious crises Muslims faced during the British Raj—i.e., economic, political, social, and cultural—for him this “crisis of religion” was by far the most formidable challenge for the well being of Indian society, a challenge which again was not simply confined to Muslims.

But how does Ḥusayn (ʿa) and the battle of Karbala help him illuminate Islam? Was he simply paying lip service to pious Shiʿi sensibilities? Not really. If his seven-volume Qurʾanic commentary is excluded, almost one-third of his writings relate to the theme of Husaynology[5]I borrow this term from Justin Jones, “Shiʿism, Humanity and Revolution in Twentieth Century India: Selfhood and Politics in the Husainology of ‘Ali Naqi Naqvi,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 24 (3) 2014, pp. 415-34. directly. Even those writings whose main subject-matter is not Husaynology contain ample allusions to and reflections on it.[6]It must be noted, for example, that the quote that opens this essay comes from one such text, namely, La Tufsidū fī al-Arḍ. If one surveys his entire corpus, it becomes clear that he meant what he said. A few other facts corroborate this point: 1) The theme of Karbala is with Sayyid Naqvi from the beginning of his intellectual career.[7]The earliest work was written in Arabic during his seminary studies in Najaf, Iraq, to defend what were seen as extreme forms of Shiʿi mourning against criticisms from certain ʿulamāʾ, especially Ayatullah Muḥsin al-Amīn, the author of the well-known Aʿyān al-Shīʿa. See “The Flagellations of Muharram and the Shiʿite Ulama’” in Der Islam, 55 (1978), p. 19-36. Upon his return from Iraq, the first book he authored was again related to the subject of Ḥusayn (ʿa) and Karbala. Coincidentally it is also Imamia Mission Publication House’s first publication. Qātilān-i Ḥusayn kā madhhab (Lucknow: Manshurah Imamiyah Mission and Sarfaraz Qawmi Press, 1932). 2) From among the first hundred volumes of his work that were published by Imamia Mission Publication House (the idea of it was Sayyid Naqvi’s inspiration), thirty-four dealt with Husaynology, and only Husaynology-related texts were translated into languages other than Urdu.[8]For example, Ḥusayn awr Islām (1935) was immediately translated into Hindi and English. This work was followed by Ḥusayn kā Atam Balaydān and The Martyrdom of Ḥusayn (1936) in the same year. 3) There are ample occasional allusions to this theme in texts that do not deal with it in any direct way.[9]La Tufsidū fī al-Arḍ, for example, includes the theme of Karbala and martyrdom of Ḥusayn (ʿa). It occurs in the context of a discussion on how a muṣliḥ is often accused by people of being a mufsid: “Earlier I had said that religion and state, even if separate from one another, could cause a [complete] destruction of the world. But if religion is subsumed by power, there will be no limits to corruption (fasādāt). The greatest example of this is the sultanates of Umayyads; here religion and political power—the two things that can be great sources of corruption in the world (fasād fī al-ʿarḍ)—were merged. What was the result of this? Could there be an illustration of fasād fī al-ʿarḍ greater than [what happened in] the event of Karbala?… Was there anyone more muṣliḥ of the world than Ḥusayn ibn ʿAli? Absolutely not…Imam Ḥusayn and his followers are blamed for fasād fī al-ʿarḍ. Ḥusayn presents his defense by action, and through this action the result is made clear [regarding whether he was a mufsid or a muṣliḥ?]” (86-88) 4) Sayyid Naqvi was somewhat unique for someone of his stature in his willingness to speak from the pulpit during Muharram and throughout the year, a forum generally attributed to preachers of limited scholarly training. And finally, 5) Sayyid Naqvi continued writing on this subject throughout his life without any noticeable gap, extending his reflections and analysis in both depth and breadth. His reflections on the Karbala narrative were thus not simply an inevitable burden carried by a Shiʿi ʿālim and religious leader. Rather, they were crucial to Sayyid Naqvi’s lifelong struggle to revive Islam in 20th-century South Asia for his modern audience, restoring it to its once-privileged societal status.

Yet a consistent interpretive pattern underlies all of Sayyid Naqvi’s intellectual engagements with the Karbala narrative[10]For example, see: Mujāhidah-i Karbala (1933); Ḥusayn awr Islām (1932); Maʿrakah-i Karbalā (1935); Maḥārabah-i Karbalā (1936); Banī Umayyah kī ʿAdāwat-i Islām kī Mukhtaṣar Tārīkh (1928/1963); and Khilāfat-i Yazīd kay Mutaʿalli Āzād Ārāʾīn (1953). and wider Islamic sacred history:[11]Sayyid Ali Naqi Naqvi, Tarīkh-i Islām, 4 vols (Islamabad: Imāmīya Dar al-Tablīgh, 2000). First, grounding historical details within historical sources to set the historical record straight; and second, drawing out and explicating the ethical meaning both from the broader historical narrative and its very concrete moments. In other words, though historical accuracy is a huge concern for Sayyid Naqvi, the goal of history is not history itself. Rather, it is the lessons learned therein. Generally, these lessons are ethical and are drawn out to edify his religious audience. For Sayyid Naqvi, accuracy of the historical narrative, though quite crucial in its own right, would be incomplete if it does not tend toward the ethical.

This paper illumines how in engaging narratives of Karbala—and by extension, Islam’s sacred (read: prophetic) mytho-history—Sayyid Naqvi was drawing on the Islamic tradition’s symbolic and mythical sources. Use of the term “myth” here needs to be contrasted clearly from its popular conceptions as a “false, fictional, fantasy story”. Myth as used in the academic study of religion (and utilized here) refers to an “orienting tale”, that is, a sacred story which is at the heart of a religious tradition. It provides to its believers an overarching account of life and the world, their origins (i.e., “In the beginning was…”), the arc and flow of history through time—and significant historical events within—and finally an account of the end of it all. These myths are “orientational” because they orient for those inhabiting the myth almost every aspect of human life, its purpose and day-to-day religious rituals, ethical principles, and practices. It is in view of these observations that one notices that Sayyid Naqvi’s telling of Islam’s sacred origins and unfolding of prophetic history through the ages has both mythical and historical character.

…though historical accuracy is a huge concern for Sayyid Naqvi, the goal of history is not history itself. Rather, it is the lessons learned therein.

Just as Sayyid Naqvi draws on the uṣūlī-intellectual framework to “re-imagine”, “translate”, and “re-present” Islamic theology and praxis for his 20th-century Muslim audience,[12]See chapter 3 of Syed Rizwan Zamir, “Rethinking, Reconfiguring and Popularizing Islamic Tradition: Religious Thought of a Contemporary Indian Scholar” (PhD diss., University of Virginia, 2011). he also draws on Islam’s symbolic and mytho-theological[13]Akin to “mytho-history” discussed earlier, the term “mytho-theology” highlights the intertwining of mythic and theological underpinnings of the narrative. The ensuing discussion should make this point clearer. sources for the same purpose. If the former represents reviving Islam through its intellectual tradition, then the latter represents this revival through Islam’s mythological tradition.[14]Though not the subject of this essay, it is also pertinent to note that in taking up the pulpit (and the impactful preacher-scholar role for which Sayyid Naqvi became so popular) was also for the task of religious preservation and revival. And in doing that he also revolutionized Shiʿi preaching. Put simply, Sayyid Naqvi’s Husaynology and preaching in its various dimensions was his simultaneous act of “preaching Shiʿi revival” and “reviving Shiʿi preaching”. Together and complementing one another, they complete Sayyid Naqvi’s religio-intellectual project. This paper discusses Sayyid Naqvi’s engagement with the foremost mythological source of the Shiʿi Islamic tradition, the figure of Ḥusayn (ʿa) and his heroic act on the plains of Karbala. Discussing at length first Sayyid Naqvi’s Husaynology, I will proceed to show how in Sayyid Naqvi’s Husaynology, the historical continually meets the ethical, without collapsing the integrity of either.

Yet, to stop our analysis at the purely ethical is to miss an even more crucial aspect of Sayyid Naqvi’s Husaynology and his presentation of Islam’s sacred history: the mytho-theological worldview that underlies—and inevitably configures—the historical narrative. We can only appreciate his statement that opens this essay by, first, appreciating the close connections between the historical, ethical, and the mytho-theological; and second, by understanding how they all inform and together play out in Sayyid Naqvi’s Husaynology and mytho-theology—within which Ḥusayn (ʿa) becomes the ultimate hero of Islam and humanity. Finally, the essay will also note that Sayyid Naqvi is a “contemporary Muslim historian”, who on the one hand, enacted the long-standing tradition of Muslim histories through the hermeneutic of his mytho-theology, while on the other, was responsive to the intellectual challenges of the twentieth century by highlighting an ethical framework.

PART I: THE HERMENEUTICS OF HISTORY

The Overlap of the Historical and the Ethical in Sayyid Naqvi’s Husaynology

A clear statement regarding this close connection between the historical account and its ethical implications is found in Uswa-i Ḥusaynī, where Sayyid Naqvi notes the following:

The event of Karbala and its practical results is a topic that deserves a lengthy commentary. Every sub-event of this incident is a fountain of ethical, social, and religious teachings. Imam Ḥusayn had patched together all human perfections (kamālāt-i insānī). In fact, the incident of Karbala unveils all the characteristics of truth and falsehood (ḥaqq wa bāṭil)…The numerous valuable lessons taught by Ḥusayn at Karbala should not be viewed through a wrong lens, and then lost to forgetfulness.  These lessons should be made into the plan of life and the constitution for a practical communal life (dastūr-i ʿamal-i ḥayāt-i millī) (129, italics added).[15]Uswah-i Ḥusaynī. Whenever the word millī is used in his writings and in this essay, even when translated as “nation” it means community. Though millī can be rendered as “national”, but since Sayyid Naqvi hardly ever spoke of “nation” in the sense of nationalism, “community” and “communal” seem more appropriate for millat and millī, especially in this context.

A few pages later, he states:

The incident of Karbala is not simply about heartrending afflictions (maṣāʾib) that invite human nature to shed tears. It is also a didactic institution (madrasah-i tarbīyat) where the world is taught the principles of virtue, etiquette (adab), and a sense of duty. Blessed are those who—just as they are affected by the mourning aspect [of this incident]—also gain from its didactic dimension, and apply and demonstrate these teachings in a manner akin to what Ḥusayn envisaged for the world. (142)

The ethical thrust of Husaynology is even more clearly illumined by Shahīd-i Insāniyat, a 584-page volume published in 1942 upon the 1300th anniversary of the martyrdom of Ḥusayn (ʿa), and still the most comprehensive work on Husaynology in the Urdu language.[16]Sayyid Ali Naqi Naqvi, Shahīd-i Insānīyat (Lahore: Imāmīya Mission Pakistan Trust, 2006).  The text is dedicated to a historical reconstruction of the complete life of Ḥusayn (ʿa) from his birth leading up to his martyrdom and its immediate impact afterward. The historical sources are drawn from both Sunni and Shiʿi sources among which Tabari’s history was overwhelmingly given the foremost status.[17]In La Tufsidū fī al-Arḍ, while discussing Ḥusayn’s (ʿa) mission as muṣliḥ, Sayyid Naqvi notes: “I will present to you proofs (shawāhid) in which Imam Ḥusayn has rebutted this misunderstanding, and shows how [historical] outcomes have supported Ḥusayn…I have only this book in my hand, called Tarīkh-i Ṭabarī. On such an occasion, I do not use any work other than this. That is why I will present proofs only from this [work], ones that are relevant to my subject.” (87-88) This special status accorded to al-Ṭabari’s history by Sayyid Naqvi is due to its authoritativeness for the wider Muslim community. This engagement with historical sources was intended to provide an historical account that would be acceptable to most Muslims, regardless of their sectarian affiliations. After devoting over five hundred pages to a rigorous historical reconstruction of events leading up to Karbala, its implications, and the historical aftermath—in other words, the historicizing of the Karbala mythology—he turns to the various ethical implications of this event for contemporary Muslims. Without delving into too much detail, I list here the various lessons Sayyid Naqvi cites under sub-headings that capture in a summary fashion the wide range of his many ethical reflections in the context of Husaynology:

  1. Change of mindset (tabdīl-i dhahnīyyat) (536);
  2. demonstration of the power of religion and spirituality (539);
  3. affirmation and propagation of Islam’s veracity (540);
  4. moral and cultural teachings such as freedom (543);
  5. perseverance (544);
  6. collective discipline (546);
  7. dignity (ʿizzat-i nafs) (548);
  8. patience (550);
  9. sacrifice for others (553);
  10. empathy (555);
  11. good dealings with others (555);
  12. sympathy for human beings (558);
  13. truthfulness (559);
  14. peacemaking and tolerance (564);
  15. and sacrifice (573).

The section concludes with “miscellaneous” other teachings that included: veiling (574), arranging for a will before death (578), reverence for Divine laws (581), and remembering forefathers and nobility (581).

The list provided in Shahīd-i Insānīyat is far from being exhaustive of the various lessons Sayyid Naqvi derived from his reflections. Interspersed in all his writings, be those on the Karbala-narrative explicitly or on another subject, are found numerous other lessons. Unsurprisingly again, in closing the book, Sayyid Naqvi reiterates how the true purpose of mourning is neither to seek intercession, nor to simply lament Ḥusayn’s (ʿa) death, but to apply his teachings to one’s life. A clear proof that the true intent of telling the narrative is ethical is the fact that the long historical narrative itself converges onto the various “lessons learned” from that narrative.[18]In passing, it should be mentioned that Sayyid Naqvi’s historicizing of the Karbala mythology obviously did not occur without controversy and pushback from pious Shiʿis. These controversies have been discussed at length in Justin Jones’s article cited earlier.

The Overlap of the Historical and the Ethical in Sayyid Naqvi’s Study of Islamic Sacred Prophetic History

The strong connection between the historical and the ethical is also evident in Sayyid Naqvi’s presentation of Islamic history from his later years, in his well-known four-volume Tārīkh-i Islām [History of Islam].[19]Sayyid Ali Naqi Naqvi, Tarīkh-i Islām, 4 vols (Islamabad: Imāmīya Dār al-Tablīgh, 2000). Again, History of Islam is not history for history’s sake. It is not intended as a text that would simply lay out a detailed account of “what happened”. Akin to his Husaynology, moral and spiritual lessons are intricately woven into the historical narrative. Let me illustrate this through Sayyid Naqvi’s discussion of the prophetic career of Abraham.

In Sayyid Naqvi’s telling, the story of Islam begins with trials, suffering, patience, and sacrifice. Commenting upon the Qurʾanic verse of Sūrat al-Anbiyāʾ (21):68,[20]“They said, ‘Burn him [Abraham], and help your gods, if you would do aught.’” Qurʾan, Sūrat al-Anbiyāʾ (21):68. which describes Nimrod’s tyranny toward Abraham that ultimately led to his emigration, Sayyid Naqvi remarks that Divine Wisdom did not intervene at this stage. It waited until the brutality of the oppressor and the patience of the oppressed both reached their final limit. Divine Wisdom lets events take their course, to a point where the oppressor could not argue that “we did not intend to burn, we were simply threatening,” and where the oppressed Abraham’s patience and loyalty to God in the face of threats of fire are also tested to their utmost limit. Human choices were not obstructed; rather, they were allowed freedom to be exercised fully so there is neither confusion nor doubt as to the brutality of the oppressor and the trial of the oppressed. It is only after Abraham was thrown into fire that the Divine Will intervened and saved Abraham. Since God had other aims for Abraham, he did not become a martyr. A perfect embodiment of “the sacrificing ethos” of Islam’s foremost guides and exemplars, Abraham in this exposition becomes the first person to have made sacrifices for Islam. With Lot and Sarah, he also becomes the first emigrant of Islamic history. (12-13) This telling of the historical account begins to reveal its ethical thrust, and also brings to light a hierarchic view of virtues, whereby sacrifice and patience in the face of trials to emerge as the crowning virtues a human being can achieve.[21]We will turn to the discussion of the “hierarchy of virtues” again later in the essay. It must be pointed out here though that the intertwining of ethics, history, and sacred mytho-theology in the telling of the episode of Abraham is quite emblematic of the general trend in Sayyid Naqvi’s writings and speeches.

…a hierarchic view of virtues, whereby sacrifice and patience in the face of trials to emerge as the crowning virtues a human being can achieve.

The Islamic history of affliction, suffering, and sacrifice continued with prophets that succeeded Abraham. For example, Lot suffered at the hands of his community, which had refused to follow divine injunctions and eventually drove him out of the area. He writes: “These are the earlier traces (nuqūsh) of Islamic history that have turned events of affliction (maṣāʾib), pain (takālīf), torment [from others], homelessness, and exile into a treasure. That is why the Prophet of Islam said, ‘Islam began with exile.’” [22]Tarīkh-i Islām, p. 14. The hadith reads as follows: “Islam began with exile, and returns to being with exile. So there are glad tidings to those in exile.” (badā al-islāmu gharīban wa sayaʿūdu gharīban fa-ṭūbā li-l-ghurabāʾ). See al-Ṣadūq, Kamāl al-Dīn wa-Tamām al-Niʿmah, vol. 1, p. 200. But there is clear contemporary import to these lessons; they come as ethical injunctions to his community, reminding them that as a prophetic community, suffering is destined for them. And faced with suffering, the community should not lose heart: “How then could it be apt for Muslims that they are troubled, or lose hope with the occurrence of afflictions (maṣāʾib) or extreme difficulties (shadāʾid)? They should understand these things as part of their communal character and should always be prepared to bear them,” he added.[23]Tarīkh-i Islām, p. 14. In other words, Sayyid Naqvi is responding to the anxieties and deep angst that the turbulences of the colonial era had afflicted upon his Muslim audience. His reading of history thus becomes an exercise in finding inspiration and igniting hope for the anxious South Asian Muslims of the modern colonial period.

An even more interesting hermeneutical move presents itself at this juncture. One observes Sayyid Naqvi plotting the ethical side-by-side with the historical. The occasion is Abraham’s pleading with God in the context of Lot’s story. Yes, the prophet-guides of Islam had always suffered in the hands of their community; the community rebelled and disobeyed them, yet the prophets never cursed them nor took revenge. They, in reality, went beyond simply being patient with their communities. They went out of their way to protect their communities, through prayers, through intercession with God, and at times, even by arguing with Him. Abraham’s efforts to protect Lot’s community is presented as a key example in this regard. Through Qurʾanic references, Sayyid Naqvi notes how when the Divine Wisdom found no room for rehabilitating Lot’s community (and it sent angels to punish them) Abraham argued with them and with God to protect them (14).[24]Here, he is making reference to the following Qurʾanic verses: Hūd (11):74, al-Sharḥ (94):6, and Āl-i ʿImrān (3):19. Making sure that the incident is not read as Abraham’s disobedience toward God’s Will, Sayyid Naqvi notes that Abraham’s act of dissent is his special privilege as the intimate friend of God, and therefore a friendly and frank quarrelling that only friends could do. (14-15)

They, in reality, went beyond simply being patient with their communities. They went out of their way to protect their communities, through prayers, through intercession with God, and at times, even by arguing with Him.

One final instance of the edification of his audiences should suffice. The context is Abraham’s building of the House of God in Mecca:

This building of the Kaʿbah was in fact the building of a center for the Islamic religion, which is a source of success and salvation for the whole world. Both father and son were busy erecting it: the father was constructing it, while the son was doing the hard labor. Though the tribe of Jarham had already settled in Mecca, the Creator desired that the house be built by father and son alone. In this way, this concept that there is no harm in labor and hard work was established forever for the followers of Islam. It is so because our great religious and spiritual ancestors were [themselves] employed by the Creator for this task. (22)

In pointing out the centrality of Mecca to the story of Islam, the opportunity for highlighting the significance of hard work was not neglected either.

One more point needs to be made regarding the theological underpinnings of this intertwining of the historical and the ethical: the overarching theological vision that provides the parameters and criteria by which particular events of history are assessed and commented upon exhibits an unmistakable Shiʿi coloring. Sayyid Naqvi’s subtle and repeated stress that “Islam is a religion of the oppressed” in these early pages is, in orientation, quite clearly Shiʿi: The history of Islam—which includes all previous prophets—is the history of an oppressed and suffering community. If the message of the various prophets is one with the message of the Prophet of Islam, they also share a common fate: that they will be misunderstood, their teachings will be forgotten by most, and the prophets will always suffer at the hands of their communities. It is obvious how this particular lens through which Sayyid Naqvi looked upon history could easily be extended to the life of the Prophet on the one hand, and to the household of the Prophet on the other. It is also clear how Sayyid Naqvi would tie this view of history to the sufferings of Ḥusayn (ʿa) and his companions on the planes of Karbala. Like the episode of Abraham, the events of Karbala revealed the extent of Umayyad oppression and Ḥusayn’s forbearance in the face of that oppression. This view of history is clearly distinct from the usual Sunni version of a triumphant and victorious Islam.

Syed Rizwan Zamir is an associate professor of Religious Studies at the department of religion at Davidson College in Davidson, NC, where he teaches introductory and advanced courses in the area of Islamic studies, specializing in Islamic thought and spirituality. Dr. Zamir’s Ph.D. dissertation was on the religio-intellectual thought of Sayyid ʿAlī Naqvī and his profound influence on the religious and social landscape of the Shiʿi community in South Asia. He received a B.A. from the University of Punjab and also James Madison University. Dr. Zamir earned his Ph.D. from the University of Virginia.

Notes   [ + ]

1. ⇧ La Tufsidū fī al-Arḍ (1935), p. 115.
2. ⇧ In communal memory, known with his honorific titles “sayyid al-ʿulamāʾ” and “naqqan sāḥib”, Sayyid Ali Naqi Naqvi (1905–1988), is arguably the most prolific (we are looking at over 250 works in Urdu, Persian, and Arabic), widely popular, and revered Indian Shiʿi scholar of the twentieth century. Justin Jones describes him as “one of the subcontinent’s most prominent ʿulamāʾ in the 1930s-1940s,” “the final great mujtahid of South Asia,” and that “after independence he would remain the most well-known, widely published and widely quoted Shiʿa ʿalim in the country for four decades.” (Shia Islam in Colonial India, p. 247) Decades earlier, S. A. A. Rizvi had called him “a very impressive and lucid orator.” (A Socio-Intellectual History of Shiʿi South Asia, vol. II, p. 152) One must also mention Simon Fuchs’ recent study of Shiʿism in Pakistan, where the influence of Sayyid al-ʿulamāʾ on the Shiʿi intellectual and religious landscape of Pakistan have been observed on several occasions. See his In a Pure Muslim Land: Shiʿism between Pakistan and the Middle East (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina, 2019).
3. ⇧ For a fuller account of this “crisis of religion” and its reception and articulation by Sayyid Naqvi, see chapter 1 of Syed Rizwan Zamir, “Rethinking, Reconfiguring and Popularizing Islamic Tradition: Religious Thought of a Contemporary Indian Scholar” (PhD diss., University of Virginia, 2011). See also footnote 4.
4. ⇧ Given the complexity of the subject, it is extremely inconvenient to attempt here a robust description of modernity and modernism, i.e., the underlying worldview of modernity. The best that can be offered is a general sense of their relevance to our purposes. Through the direct rule of Western colonial powers in the 18th, 19th, and the first half of the 20th centuries, Muslim thought and cultures came into serious contact with Enlightenment-inspired modern Western thought and institutions. Throughout these centuries—and the trend continues to this day—Muslims have grappled with these ideas and institutions, and have continuously assessed their viability for Muslim thought and culture. It is this grappling with modern Western ideas, values, and institutions in colonial times that scholars and Muslim thinkers like Sayyid Naqvi deemed modernity and modernism as significantly new challenges for contemporary Islamic civilization.
5. ⇧ I borrow this term from Justin Jones, “Shiʿism, Humanity and Revolution in Twentieth Century India: Selfhood and Politics in the Husainology of ‘Ali Naqi Naqvi,” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 24 (3) 2014, pp. 415-34.
6. ⇧ It must be noted, for example, that the quote that opens this essay comes from one such text, namely, La Tufsidū fī al-Arḍ.
7. ⇧ The earliest work was written in Arabic during his seminary studies in Najaf, Iraq, to defend what were seen as extreme forms of Shiʿi mourning against criticisms from certain ʿulamāʾ, especially Ayatullah Muḥsin al-Amīn, the author of the well-known Aʿyān al-Shīʿa. See “The Flagellations of Muharram and the Shiʿite Ulama’” in Der Islam, 55 (1978), p. 19-36. Upon his return from Iraq, the first book he authored was again related to the subject of Ḥusayn (ʿa) and Karbala. Coincidentally it is also Imamia Mission Publication House’s first publication. Qātilān-i Ḥusayn kā madhhab (Lucknow: Manshurah Imamiyah Mission and Sarfaraz Qawmi Press, 1932).
8. ⇧ For example, Ḥusayn awr Islām (1935) was immediately translated into Hindi and English. This work was followed by Ḥusayn kā Atam Balaydān and The Martyrdom of Ḥusayn (1936) in the same year.
9. ⇧ La Tufsidū fī al-Arḍ, for example, includes the theme of Karbala and martyrdom of Ḥusayn (ʿa). It occurs in the context of a discussion on how a muṣliḥ is often accused by people of being a mufsid: “Earlier I had said that religion and state, even if separate from one another, could cause a [complete] destruction of the world. But if religion is subsumed by power, there will be no limits to corruption (fasādāt). The greatest example of this is the sultanates of Umayyads; here religion and political power—the two things that can be great sources of corruption in the world (fasād fī al-ʿarḍ)—were merged. What was the result of this? Could there be an illustration of fasād fī al-ʿarḍ greater than [what happened in] the event of Karbala?… Was there anyone more muṣliḥ of the world than Ḥusayn ibn ʿAli? Absolutely not…Imam Ḥusayn and his followers are blamed for fasād fī al-ʿarḍ. Ḥusayn presents his defense by action, and through this action the result is made clear [regarding whether he was a mufsid or a muṣliḥ?]” (86-88)
10. ⇧ For example, see: Mujāhidah-i Karbala (1933); Ḥusayn awr Islām (1932); Maʿrakah-i Karbalā (1935); Maḥārabah-i Karbalā (1936); Banī Umayyah kī ʿAdāwat-i Islām kī Mukhtaṣar Tārīkh (1928/1963); and Khilāfat-i Yazīd kay Mutaʿalli Āzād Ārāʾīn (1953).
11. ⇧ Sayyid Ali Naqi Naqvi, Tarīkh-i Islām, 4 vols (Islamabad: Imāmīya Dar al-Tablīgh, 2000).
12. ⇧ See chapter 3 of Syed Rizwan Zamir, “Rethinking, Reconfiguring and Popularizing Islamic Tradition: Religious Thought of a Contemporary Indian Scholar” (PhD diss., University of Virginia, 2011).
13. ⇧ Akin to “mytho-history” discussed earlier, the term “mytho-theology” highlights the intertwining of mythic and theological underpinnings of the narrative. The ensuing discussion should make this point clearer.
14. ⇧ Though not the subject of this essay, it is also pertinent to note that in taking up the pulpit (and the impactful preacher-scholar role for which Sayyid Naqvi became so popular) was also for the task of religious preservation and revival. And in doing that he also revolutionized Shiʿi preaching. Put simply, Sayyid Naqvi’s Husaynology and preaching in its various dimensions was his simultaneous act of “preaching Shiʿi revival” and “reviving Shiʿi preaching”.
15. ⇧ Uswah-i Ḥusaynī. Whenever the word millī is used in his writings and in this essay, even when translated as “nation” it means community. Though millī can be rendered as “national”, but since Sayyid Naqvi hardly ever spoke of “nation” in the sense of nationalism, “community” and “communal” seem more appropriate for millat and millī, especially in this context.
16. ⇧ Sayyid Ali Naqi Naqvi, Shahīd-i Insānīyat (Lahore: Imāmīya Mission Pakistan Trust, 2006).
17. ⇧ In La Tufsidū fī al-Arḍ, while discussing Ḥusayn’s (ʿa) mission as muṣliḥ, Sayyid Naqvi notes: “I will present to you proofs (shawāhid) in which Imam Ḥusayn has rebutted this misunderstanding, and shows how [historical] outcomes have supported Ḥusayn…I have only this book in my hand, called Tarīkh-i Ṭabarī. On such an occasion, I do not use any work other than this. That is why I will present proofs only from this [work], ones that are relevant to my subject.” (87-88) This special status accorded to al-Ṭabari’s history by Sayyid Naqvi is due to its authoritativeness for the wider Muslim community.
18. ⇧ In passing, it should be mentioned that Sayyid Naqvi’s historicizing of the Karbala mythology obviously did not occur without controversy and pushback from pious Shiʿis. These controversies have been discussed at length in Justin Jones’s article cited earlier.
19. ⇧ Sayyid Ali Naqi Naqvi, Tarīkh-i Islām, 4 vols (Islamabad: Imāmīya Dār al-Tablīgh, 2000).
20. ⇧ “They said, ‘Burn him [Abraham], and help your gods, if you would do aught.’” Qurʾan, Sūrat al-Anbiyāʾ (21):68.
21. ⇧ We will turn to the discussion of the “hierarchy of virtues” again later in the essay. It must be pointed out here though that the intertwining of ethics, history, and sacred mytho-theology in the telling of the episode of Abraham is quite emblematic of the general trend in Sayyid Naqvi’s writings and speeches.
22. ⇧ Tarīkh-i Islām, p. 14. The hadith reads as follows: “Islam began with exile, and returns to being with exile. So there are glad tidings to those in exile.” (badā al-islāmu gharīban wa sayaʿūdu gharīban fa-ṭūbā li-l-ghurabāʾ). See al-Ṣadūq, Kamāl al-Dīn wa-Tamām al-Niʿmah, vol. 1, p. 200.
23. ⇧ Tarīkh-i Islām, p. 14.
24. ⇧ Here, he is making reference to the following Qurʾanic verses: Hūd (11):74, al-Sharḥ (94):6, and Āl-i ʿImrān (3):19. Making sure that the incident is not read as Abraham’s disobedience toward God’s Will, Sayyid Naqvi notes that Abraham’s act of dissent is his special privilege as the intimate friend of God, and therefore a friendly and frank quarrelling that only friends could do. (14-15)

On Knowledge and Ḥikmah: An Interview with Sayyid Munir al-Khabbaz

By
al-Sidrah
-

What do the Qurʾan and aḥādīth teach us about knowledge and wisdom? What role does knowledge play in our religious life? And what can we learn from the lives of our ʿulamāʾ, in devoting our lives to seeking deep and critical knowledge, and striving for a life of taqwā and God-consciousness? We sat down with Sayyid Munīr al-Khabbāz to gain insights into these questions and more.

Sayyid al-Khabbāz is among the senior ʿulamāʾ and teachers of the Qumm seminary. Originally from Qatif, Saudi Arabia, Sayyid al-Khabbāz began his seminary training at the young age of 14, and has studied with some of the most eminent scholars of our time, including Sayyid Abu al-Qāsim al-Khūʾī, Sayyid Muḥammad ʿAlī al-Sīstānī, and Mīrzā Jawād al-Tabrīzī. Currently, he teaches the subjects of uṣūl al-fiqh (Islamic legal theory) and fiqh (Islamic law) at the highest level (al-baḥth al-khārij) in the Qumm seminary.

Al-Sidrah: How do our revealed religious texts define knowledge (ʿilm) and wisdom (ḥikmah)? How are the two distinct from one another?

SMK: In the discipline of logic, knowledge is traditionally defined as a concept that is present in the mind. It is divided into two types: simple apprehension (taṣawwur) and ascension (taṣdīq). Linguistically, knowledge is defined as the unveiling of reality or truth for a person. But our religious texts do not use the word “ʿilm” (knowledge) in a particular way (ḥaqīqah sharʿiyyah) that is distinct from its lexical meaning.

Some aḥādīth describe knowledge as a light that God bestows upon the hearts of whomever He wills among His servants. Others state that knowledge is better than wealth because wealth depletes as it is spent, whereas knowledge grows when it is used; or that those who collect and guard wealth are overcome and defeated even while they are still alive, whereas scholars (ʿulamāʾ) persist forever; or state that knowledge calls to action, and if it finds action [then it stays], otherwise it departs. The apparent sense of these texts appears to describe knowledge as the presence of God in the soul (nafs) of a person. When a person is able to perceive God as present in his own soul, he has attained this knowledge that the aḥādīth indicate, a knowledge that protects one from hypocrisy, that is more valuable than wealth, and that allows a person to attain the good of this world and the hereafter. This spiritual presence of God is the light (nūr) which he puts into the hearts of His servants, a reality He alludes to in the verse, “God guides whom He pleases to His light.” [1]Qurʾan, al-Nūr (24):35.

As for the term “wisdom” (ḥikmah), linguistically it refers to situating things in their proper place. If a person has this ability, he is characterized as wise (ḥakīm) because his action are coherent and “firm” (muḥkam), for he places things where they ought to be. A number of verses of the Qurʾan speak about the effects of wisdom. For example, the Qurʾan states: “Whoever is given wisdom, he has been given abundant good;”[2]Qurʾan, al-Baqarah (2):269. “God bestowed upon you the book and wisdom and gave you knowledge of that which you knew not. The grace of God upon you is of great magnitude.”[3]Qurʾan, al-Nisāʾ (4): 113. Ḥikmah is in fact juxtaposed or paralleled to the divine Book (kitāb): “It is he who sent forth to the ummīyīn, from among them, a messenger who recites to them His signs, purifies them, and teaches them the Book and wisdom.”[4]Qurʾan, al-Jumuʿah (62): 2.

Thus, wisdom refers to that totality of virtues that come as a result of the dominion of the intellect over all other faculties of the soul.

From the apparent sense of these verses—with the first verse equating wisdom with the divine Book, the second stating that wisdom is something taught and bestowed, and the final stating that whoever is bestowed with ḥikmah is bestowed with “abundant good”—we can understand wisdom to be the sum total of what it means to have righteous conduct, what we call practical wisdom (al-ḥikmah al-ʿamaliyyah). Ḥikmah refers in reality to the totality of virtues. The faculties of the soul are usually divided into three main categories: anger, lust, and intellect (al-ghaḍabiyyah, al-shahwiyyah, and al-ʿaqliyyah). Wisdom is when the soul’s intellectual faculty has dominion over the other faculties, a state in which every action that emanates from a person emanates from the balance that the intellect creates within that person’s soul. Thus, wisdom refers to the totality of virtues that result from the dominion of the intellect over all other faculties of the soul.

Al-Sidrah: What role does knowledge play in a person’s piety and spiritual growth? Is knowledge a necessary element in this growth?

SMK: There is no doubt that knowledge is necessary for a person to attain true piety. We read in the Qurʾan that, “It is only the knowledgeable (ʿulamāʾ) among God’s servants who fear Him.”[5]Qurʾan, Fāṭir (35):28. The apparent sense of this verse signifies delimitation and exclusivity, that the [singular] path towards true piety and fear of God is knowledge. A second verse states, “Is he who supplicates in the watches of the night, prostrating and standing, apprehensive of the Hereafter and expecting the mercy of his Lord [like someone who is not such]? Say: Are those who know equal to those who do not know? Only those who possess intellect take heed.”[6]Qurʾan, al-Zumar (39):9. Prostration and standing in prayer are succeeded by a reference to knowledge; in other words, these actions are fruitful only by virtue of the presence of knowledge. [The verses commands:] say that these acts of worship are only fruitful with and by the presence of knowledge, that only a knowledgeable person can benefit from this worship. Therefore, knowledge is the path to piety, to real and true fear of God, Sublime and Holy is He.

Sayyid Munir al-Khabbaz giving a lecture during the Month of Ramadan. June 9, 2018
Sayyid Munir al-Khabbaz giving a lecture during the month of Ramadan. June 9, 2018.

However, only knowledge that is connected to the Divine, to Allah, can fulfil this role. Other types of knowledge cannot do so, even if that knowledge is itself intrinsically valuable. Sometimes a person commits an act because it contains an intrinsic value; at other times, he acts in a utilitarian way, to receive some other benefit. Sometimes, a person seeks to use the sunlight, or he wants to utilize water from the sea, or whatever other blessing that God has bestowed. This person aims to benefit from those objects in themselves. At other times, a person may approach an object to gain something else. It is this second case that is relevant to knowledge; in other words, divine knowledge is when a person sees all the beings of this world as simply signs of God and emanations of the Divine. If he sees all these things as means to an ultimate end, then he has traversed the path of knowledge that will convey him to true piety and fear of God.

In this respect, the following hadith is narrated from Amīr al-Muʾminīn (ʿa), “I have not seen anything except while seeing God before it, after it, with it, and within it.”[7]قال امير المؤمنين: ما رأيت شيئاً إلاّ ورأيت الله قبله وبعده ومعه وفيه. It is also reported from the Imam, “Even if [all] veils were to be lifted, my level of certainty would not be increased.”[8]لَوْ كُشِفَ اَلْغِطَاءُ مَا اِزْدَدْتُ يَقِيناً. Muḥammad Bāqir al-Majlisī, Biḥār al-Anwār, vol. 40, p. 153. This type of sacred ʿAlawī soul does not see any being except as a means, as a manifestation of God and a mirror reflecting God. He is, in effect, an instance of the verse, “We will show them our signs in the horizons and in their own selves such that it becomes manifest that it is the truth. Does it suffice not that your Lord is witness over all things?”[9]Qurʾan, Fuṣṣilat (41):53.

Al-Sidrah: Whenever we hear the phrase “religious sciences” we often think of fiqh and tafsīr. How do we differentiate between religious and non-religious sciences? What is the criteria for this distinction?

SMK: A report is transmitted from Imām al-Ṣādiq (ʿa) in which he says, “Teach your children from our knowledge what will avail them.” What is meant by “our knowledge” mentioned in this hadith? Religious knowledge, or in other words, the knowledge of the Ahl al-Bayt, is every knowledge that is relevant to the realization of God’s aims and goals on Earth. Every science or field that has a share in accomplishing this final aim is considered “religious knowledge”, because it is a means of actualizing religion and its realization on Earth. We read in the Qurʾan: “By God! We have most certainly sent our messengers with clear signs and sent down with them the book and the scale so that the people establish equity.”[10]Qurʾan, al-Ḥadīd (57):25. The entire purpose of sending messengers was to establish equity. Thus, every knowledge or science that shares in establishing equity is properly classified as “religious knowledge.” We also find in the Qurʾan: “I created not the jinn and mankind except that they worship me.”[11]Qurʾan, al-Dhāriyāt (51):56. [This verse states that] another goal of the creation of jinn and humankind is worship. All knowledge that allows for the realization of worship is properly “religious knowledge.”

Therefore, the religious sciences are not limited to fiqh, uṣūl, ḥadīth, the Qurʾanic sciences, etc. Rather, any knowledge that allows for the realization of the goals of religion is religious knowledge or science. This is what separates the religious sciences from the non-religious sciences.

Al-Sidrah: …So some human sciences or social sciences could also be considered religious science or knowledge.

SMK: Yes, even some social and natural sciences can fall under the category of religious sciences, if they are a means to the realization of those religious ends.

…any knowledge that allows for the realization of the goals of religion is religious knowledge or science.

al-Sidrah: The curriculum of the ḥawzah and that of universities is different both in the topics that they study and in the amount of time they spending acquiring the necessary competencies. What are the reasons for and benefits of the traditional ḥawzah curriculum?

SMK: The traditional curriculum of the ḥawzah is, from one perspective, beneficial and praiseworthy, but from another, open to criticism. The traditional curriculum of the ḥawzah has a special property, namely that it cultivates in the student the capacity to think and engage with issues critically but productively. The ḥawzah is based on quality, not quantity, meaning that it focuses on cultivating a person’s mind to critique and produce, to meticulously analyze information and present new theories. This is the difference between a curriculum that focuses on induction and one that focuses on reasoned argument and deduction.

This does not mean, however, that the seminary curriculum is free of any criticism. In many standardized texts of the seminary, the information that is taught may be from a previous era. For example, one of the best texts on legal theory and hermeneutics (uṣūl al-fiqh) is al-Kifāyah.[12]Kifāyat al-Uṣūl is a textbook on legal theory and hermeneutics written by al-Ākhūnd Muḥammad Kāẓim al-Khurāsānī (1839-1911). It is currently taught as a foundational textbook in the field of legal theory (uṣūl al-fiqh). This book represents a particular level of legal theory that was present at the author’s time. As for the contemporary state of the field of legal theory, a student has to struggle to learn and understand it himself. The same is true in Islamic law (fiqh) wherein the standard texts that are studied, by al-Shaykh al-Anṣārī, al-Shahīd al-Awwal, or al-Shahīd al-Thānī, reflect the state of the field during their time. This is also the case with the study of philosophy. Today’s textbooks—the Manẓūmah of al-Sabzawārī, the Asfār of al-Mullā Ṣadrā, Bidāyat al-Ḥikmah and Nihāyat al-Ḥikmah of al-ʿAllāmah al-Ṭabāṭabāʾī—reflect the state of philosophy of previous eras. Today, however, it has become necessary for the student to read and compare the philosophy that is studied in the seminary to that of the West, and to become acquainted with how later philosophers have critiqued previous thought and further developed these fields.

So the seminary’s curriculum is better in the sense that its trains its students to critique and produce, whereas the academic curriculum is beneficial because it stays abreast of current developments in various fields.

al-Sidrah: Many religions in Western society do not place the same emphasis on religious law [as Islam does.] How do we explain to our society the importance of Islamic law to a Muslim?

SMK: Fiqh is a means of assembling and constructing life. Fiqh in this sense is not just the fatāwā that are listed by jurists in their legal manuals; rather, it is composed of religious rulings and general directives to society. More importantly, fiqh is not limited to the individual, rather it also contains laws for the collective. Collective or societal fiqh looks at the general state of society and is not directed at the individual.

For example, we admit that society has many necessities, such as creating a political system. Muslims in the West, in order to bring Islam to life in this society, need to enter into the political sphere in whatever way they can, so as to ensure Muslims have a say and a presence in these Western countries. As a result, the delineation of particular methods by which Muslims can establish their status in society through engagement in the political system is among the concerns of fiqh. Thus, fiqh is not limited to the issues of personal or individual religious practice; we should not think of fiqh simply as a set of rules for the individual regarding his canonical prayers, his individual worship, or his personal transactions.

Sometimes when we read the following in religious legal manuals: “It is obligatory upon every responsible adult to be a mujtahid, follower of a mujtahid, or precautionary actor in all his actions and restraint,” it is as though we interpret fiqh as just focusing on the individual alone. Rather, we must see fiqh in an intimate way, such that it reveals itself as that complete system that is constitutive of life. This is only possible if fiqh is both societal and individual. So, when we look at the fiqh of judgeship, family, roads, etc. with this big-picture view, we are able to present fiqh as a path for structuring life [as a whole], as we see in the verse, “O you who believe! Respond to God and the Messenger when they call you to what gives you life.”[13]Qurʾan, al-Anfāl (8): 24.

Al-Sidrah: A few years ago, a question was posed to Sayyid al-Sīstānī about why today’s youth are so quick to forgo their faith and fall into religious and spiritual crises. In his response, Sayyid al-Sīstānī focused on the need to bolster a sense of pride and care for our religious identity, and to try to direct that innate human sense of pride from a young age towards religion and religious identity. Why did Sayyid al-Sīstānī focus on the issue of “religious identity” when answering this question?

SMK: The question posed to him was about a psychological issue, and that was: Why is it that when many Muslim youth face a doubt or question about their religion, they quickly fall into an existential and religious crisis and a loss of faith? What is the root psychological cause for these sudden crises and the resultant loss of faith? The question was asking what these psychological causes are. For this reason, Sayyid al-Sīstānī gave an answer from a psychological standpoint attempting to identify the latent weakness which leads to this quick defeat. He responded that it is part of human nature to have pride for one’s own identity. Sometimes it is pride in a person’s national identity—for example, when a person states [proudly], “I am from such and such country”—or his tribal affiliation—“I come from such and such a tribe,”—or even a linguistic identity—for example, “I am Arab, Persian, etc.” Every human carries within him a deep-seated sense of pride for his identity. It is this psychological element of pride in one’s identity that we must utilize to strengthen a deep sense of religious identity. Therefore, the question was not about responding or resolving these intellectual doubts and deviations, for him to respond scientifically or theoretically, or for example, for him to mention the economic problems, or even the social and sociological issues that cause this religious crisis. It was about the internal psychological issues that cause a person to so quickly lose his faith. The issue [Sayyid al-Sīstānī] identified was that the person does not consider his religion to constitute a part of his identity. Were a person to understand his religion as a part of his identity, he would take the same amount of pride and care regarding his religion as he does for his nation, his language, and so on.

al-Sidrah: We often focus on the intellectual side of the life of ʿulamāʾ—their research and detailed analyses. do you have any stories of the role of piety in the intellectual and academic upbringing of scholars?

SMK: Religious sciences are different from other scholarly fields, insofar as the goal of religious sciences is to create a scholar that is a representative of the religion, which is different from [goals of] other intellectual pursuits. The goal of those [fields] is not for the person to become a symbol or representative of a particular belief [within society]. Because this is the goal of religious knowledge—to create a scholar that represents the religion—it is therefore impossible to separate knowledge from piety, to have religious knowledge without a firm relationship with worship and acts of piety. For this reason, we see that ʿulamāʾ believe that among the established means for a scholar to become a means of reaching God, and a sign from among the signs of God, is for him to pair knowledge with piety.

It is reported that Sayyid Hādī al-Mīlānī—one of our highly-esteemed scholars and marājiʿ—said that one of the conditions of ijtihād is ṣalāt al-layl. This does not meant that it is impossible, as a matter of fact, for a person to reach the level of ijtihād if he is not a performer of tahajjud. What he intended was that ṣalāt al-layl, by its very existential reality, creates a state of sincerity and humility towards God, and allows a person to reach the blessings and graces of the knowledge of Ahl al-Bayt (ʿa). After all, the aḥādīth of the Ahl al-Bayt are not simply just scattered reports. Rather, their narrations contain symbols and secret treasures which a person will not understand without combining knowledge with piety, and truly fearing and humbling oneself towards God.

…ṣalāt al-layl, by its very existential reality, creates a state of sincerity and humility towards God, and allows a person to reach the blessings and graces of the knowledge of Ahl al-Bayt (ʿa).

This is what our ʿulamāʾ have devoted themselves to. Thus, for example, it is reported that al-Shaykh al-Anṣārī[14]al-Shaykh Murtaḍā al-Dizfūlī al-Anṣārī (1214-1281 A.H./1781-1864 C.E.) was the foremost marjiʿ of his time, completely transforming the fields of Shiʿi law and legal theory of his time. He is widely recognized as both an exemplary scholar, a pious sage, and a teacher of the greatest scholars of succeeding generations. His effect on modern Shiʿi intellectual and religious history can hardly be overemphasized. would go to the shrine of Amīr al-Muʾminīn (ʿa) and weep in view of the public for a long time. This was at a time when he was the sole marjiʿ of the Shiʿa. He was setting an example: that the reason he had reached that status—he was the sole marjiʿ of his time and continues to be a pillar of juridical thought to this very day—was because he paired and connected his knowledge with piety.

This is what we have observed of our ʿulamāʾ and marājiʿ, among them our own teacher Sayyid ʿAlī al-Sīstānī, may he prosper for a long time to come. From the beginning of the time I spent with him, even before he became a marjiʿ, we saw that he was a [truly] spiritual person. His relationship with worship was on par with his relationship with knowledge and studying. His love for worship was equal to his love for knowledge and study. It was to such an extent that some colleagues tried to dissuade us from his courses, saying things like, “This man is a dervish…preoccupied with other things, just sitting on his prayer mat with his rosary…He spends hours sitting in the mosque of Kufa and sitting in the mosque of Sahlah,” and other things of this nature. This is how they thought about him, as if he was not qualified for juridical thought.

However, he was following the guidance of Amīr al-Muʾminīn (ʿa), pairing his knowledge with action, his knowledge with asceticism, distancing himself from worldly manifestations. When speaking to his students, he would also cite the example of Shaykh al-Anṣārī, explaining that [Shaykh al-Anṣārī] was the prime example of a scholar who had combined asceticism with knowledge, and knowledge with action.

Notes   [ + ]

1. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Nūr (24):35.
2. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Baqarah (2):269.
3. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Nisāʾ (4): 113.
4. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Jumuʿah (62): 2.
5. ⇧ Qurʾan, Fāṭir (35):28.
6. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Zumar (39):9.
7. ⇧ قال امير المؤمنين: ما رأيت شيئاً إلاّ ورأيت الله قبله وبعده ومعه وفيه.
8. ⇧ لَوْ كُشِفَ اَلْغِطَاءُ مَا اِزْدَدْتُ يَقِيناً. Muḥammad Bāqir al-Majlisī, Biḥār al-Anwār, vol. 40, p. 153.
9. ⇧ Qurʾan, Fuṣṣilat (41):53.
10. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Ḥadīd (57):25.
11. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Dhāriyāt (51):56.
12. ⇧ Kifāyat al-Uṣūl is a textbook on legal theory and hermeneutics written by al-Ākhūnd Muḥammad Kāẓim al-Khurāsānī (1839-1911). It is currently taught as a foundational textbook in the field of legal theory (uṣūl al-fiqh).
13. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Anfāl (8): 24.
14. ⇧ al-Shaykh Murtaḍā al-Dizfūlī al-Anṣārī (1214-1281 A.H./1781-1864 C.E.) was the foremost marjiʿ of his time, completely transforming the fields of Shiʿi law and legal theory of his time. He is widely recognized as both an exemplary scholar, a pious sage, and a teacher of the greatest scholars of succeeding generations. His effect on modern Shiʿi intellectual and religious history can hardly be overemphasized.

The Apprehension of Gleams of Infinite Light: The Upright Religion and Sectarianism

By
Shaykh Shuja Ali Mirza
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Jungle forest with Tree root and sun flare - vintage filter

This article was originally published in Spektrum Iran (3 – 2011), and is republished here with permission of the author.

There is only but one single truth. God, who is al-Ḥaqq, is at once the only Truth and the only Reality; there being none other. This divine unicity and cognitive unity calls forth in man a single-minded and wholehearted attachment to the Truth as such. This is as it should be. But God in His infinite perfections is essentially unfathomable. Being separated from Him, we can only know Him through His names, signs, and creations, which are apparently not “one” but rather multiple and multifarious. The multiplicity of the created order makes the single-minded attachment to the One Truth a difficult and somewhat perilous endeavor. To the degree that we become attached to any one particular sign or manifestation and lose sight of its essential identity with the Essence, and hence with all other manifestations, we are not giving God His due and are in reality trying to limit the non-delimited Totality. This truth applies to all things that are primarily connected with the divine and constitute the ways and means by which He is approached. Hence religion, when it is humanized and seen as an ideology that is on par with and in opposition to other religions, acts as an obstacle and barrier to the wholehearted worship of God immaculate—a worship that would constitute what the Qurʾan calls the “upright religion” that was brought by all prophets. [1]In many of his speeches, Imam Khumaynī (r) reminded his audience that if all of the prophets were to be gathered in one place and at one time, they would not have any conflict or discord with one another. See: http://www.hawzah.net/Hawzah/magazines/MagArt.aspx?MagazineNumberID=4334&id=28408

The sign which tells us that our hearts are no longer open to the infinite nature of the divine and which warns us that veils have entrapped them is complacency. When we are complacent and comfortable with our religion, being smug with the “fact” that we and only we are in possession of the “whole” truth, that is when the true worship of God ceases and the raison d’être of religion is no longer in place. Such complacency brings about a false sense of euphoria and happiness. The Qurʾan speaks of this happiness as a quality possessed by the mushrikūn in the following verses:

فَأَقِمْ وَجْهَكَ لِلدِّينِ حَنِيفًا ۚ فِطْرَتَ اللَّـهِ الَّتِي فَطَرَ النَّاسَ عَلَيْهَا ۚ لَا تَبْدِيلَ لِخَلْقِ اللَّـهِ ۚ ذَٰلِكَ الدِّينُ الْقَيِّمُ وَلَـٰكِنَّ أَكْثَرَ النَّاسِ لَا يَعْلَمُونَ ﴿٣٠﴾ مُنِيبِينَ إِلَيْهِ وَاتَّقُوهُ وَأَقِيمُوا الصَّلَاةَ وَلَا تَكُونُوا مِنَ الْمُشْرِكِينَ ﴿٣١﴾ مِنَ الَّذِينَ فَرَّقُوا دِينَهُمْ وَكَانُوا شِيَعًا ۖ كُلُّ حِزْبٍ بِمَا لَدَيْهِمْ فَرِحُونَ﴿٣٢﴾

So set your heart on the religion as a people of pure faith, the origination of Allah according to which He originated mankind (There is no altering Allah’s creation; that is the upright religion, but most people do not know)—turning to Him in penitence, and be wary of Him, and maintain the prayer, and do not be among the polytheists—of those who split up their religion and became sects: each faction exulting in what it possessed.[2]Qurʾan, al-Rūm (30):30-32.

Sulṭān Muḥammad Gunābādī, a mystic of the 19th century, comments on this verse in his exegesis of the Qurʾan:

Know that on account of his human nature, man is predisposed to attachment and association. If he were to become aware, he would know that he has not achieved human perfections per se, and that which he has achieved is not his complete perfection; rather, there exist for him boundless “lost” perfections [of which he is presently deprived]. So, if he is in search of that which he has lost—the seeker being none other than the wayfarer journeying to God in all sincerity—then he will not be happy with that which is [presently] with himself, but rather, he will abhor it and will turn away from it. But he who is not in search of that which he has lost will become attached to nothing but that which he has achieved of superficial perfections such as sciences, beliefs, qualities, moral virtues, mystical disclosures, wealth, and children. It is in this way that “every faction exults in that which it possesses”; the street-sweeper exults in the perfection of his sweeping, the magician of his magic, the businessman of his business, the scholar of his knowledge, the worshiper of his worship, the ascetic of his asceticism, and the mystic of his mysticism.[3]Sulṭān Muḥammad Gunābādī, Tafsīr Bayān al-Saʿādah fī Maqāmāt al-ʿIbādah, vol. 3 (Beirut, 1988), p. 221.

Now this should not be taken to mean that the “superficial perfections” are not perfections, or that which a person has achieved and acquired of the truth is not the truth, so as to imply either the relativity of knowledge or the relativity of truth, and bring about a debilitating skepticism cum pluralism. Rather, what this quote is emphasizing is the limitation of knowledge that comes with the human state, and the truth that awareness of this limitation is quintessential to the spiritual life of the individual soul as well as the religion as a whole. For it is only when man comes to know that he does not know, that he acquires the necessary humility to turn to God in penitence.

The awareness of his ignorance with respect to reality and the Real allows him to be truly wary of God (ittaqūhu) and consequently to continuously aspire to maintain His remembrance by maintaining the prayer.

For it is only when man comes to know that he does not know, that he acquires the necessary humility to turn to God in penitence.

On the contrary, when man is oblivious to the limitations of his knowledge and claims to possess it in an absolute and exclusive sense—this is when he is making the relative to be the absolute and the limited to be the unlimited, and this is nothing other than shirk.

وَمَا يُؤْمِنُ أَكْثَرُهُم بِاللَّـهِ إِلَّا وَهُم مُّشْرِكُونَ

And most of them do not believe in Allah without doing shirk.[4]Qurʾan, Yūsuf (12):106.

When this is done in the case of religion, which is the way to God, it leads to sectarianism. In sectarianism, the madhāhib are absolutized to the extent that there remains no room for any other manifestation of God’s infinite Truth.

This does not mean that man cannot know and must remain oblivious of the possibility of deviation in any religion and the coming to the scene of heterodoxies and heresies—for error does exist and it can be recognized. Hence any error posing as a religion or a madhhab must be exposed. When any sect moves away from the guiding principles of the religion in which it is based, it becomes a heterodoxy and eventually a heresy. In the case of Islam, the essential and substantial principles of the Truth are succinctly expressed in the shahādatayn. Imam Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq (ʿa) defines the Muḥammadan Islam and its canonical consequences in the following manner:

الاسلام شهادة أن لا إله إلّا الله والتصديق برسول الله (ص) به حُقِنَت الدِّمَاءُ وعليه جرتْ المَناكِحُ والمَواريثُ وعلى ظاهره جماعةُ الناس

Islam is the testimony ‘there is no god but Allah’ and the affirmation of the Messenger of Allah (ṣ); because of it blood is spared, upon it marriages and inheritances take place; and on its apparentness the congregation of people [as an Ummah] transpires.[5]al-Kulaynī, al-Kāfī, vol. 2, p. 25.

This “simple” criterion of the shahādatayn is in fact extremely profound and full of wisdom. On the one hand, it reflects the breadth and horizontal scope that God wishes Islam to have, whereby anyone who even verbally consents to these truths is included in the fold of God’s infinite mercy and generosity. Allowing for this is to say that the limited understanding of any believer, no matter how weak, is still a truth and an instance of an understanding that is valid. For though it might be weak and low, because it is pointing to something higher and hence “open-ended”—and while it is not in conflict with the basic principles—it is an authentic representation of the truth and is spiritually efficacious.

On the other hand, the criterion of the shahādatayn reflects the great depth and the vertical infinitude of the truth of Islam and God. It is because tawḥīd, or God’s unicity, ultimately pertains to His Essence, which de facto cannot be fathomed, and because the inner substance of the Messenger of Allah (ṣ) is beyond the reach of lesser men, that the shahādatayn remind us of Divine Mystery and our limitations with regard to it. To rephrase, speculatively (theoria) the Divine Essence is unknowable and Its infinite words or signs are inexhaustible, and practically (praxis) the prophetic substance is superabundant and the sunnah of the Prophet (ṣ) cannot be practiced by imperfect men in its totality.

…speculatively (theoria) the Divine Essence is unknowable and Its infinite words or signs are inexhaustible, and practically (praxis) the prophetic substance is superabundant and the sunnah of the Prophet (ṣ) cannot be practiced by imperfect men in its totality.

To repeat, on the one hand, the limited truth is true in reality (it is not a construct and creation of the human mind as asserted by skeptics, relativists, and pluralists), and this leads to certainty on the cognitive plane and resolve on the volitional level. With regards to the madhhab that any believer might be following, it brings about a surety and determination that is characteristic of those that worship God. On the other hand, the limited truth is limited due to man’s limitation of knowledge, and upon introspection, he knows that he does not know the total Truth, and this leads to a sacred perplexity (taḥayyur) on the noetic plane and to humility on the plane of the will. Such an awareness ensures that the follower of a madhhab does not absolutize it and take it to be the Truth. But if he were to put humility aside and feign to own the “truth”, then the ingrained sectarianism that would ensue would initially set him at odds with other sects, but eventually it would put him in conflict with other followers of his own sect, as he would see their version or reading of the sect to be “wrong” precisely because it is against his own understanding and the one that he “possesses”.

The allure of this spirit of “possessing” the truth is so great that it is ubiquitously found in all religious movements—especially those that claim to be the defenders of the true doctrine. Such claims are more predominant among the ideologues, activists, and the politicians, as their predilection for the pole of action over contemplation, or for the level of the rational over the properly intellectual does not give them the necessary depth of understanding to have an awareness of the truth that is not in their possession (ladayhim) and that is principially with God (ʿind Allah). The recent claims of a government official in Iran, Esfandiar Rahim Mashaei, to the ascendancy of the “school of Iran” over the “school of Islam”, can be understood in this light, as can the outrageous statements of the Kuwaiti-born demagogue, Yāsir al-Ḥabīb, on one side, as well as the diatribe of Wahhabi pulpiteers, on the other.

On a positive note, there are in the ummah more balanced voices of greater intellectuality. The most recent of these is the historic fatwa of the Leader of the Islamic Republic of Iran, Āyatullāh al-ʿUẓmā al-Sayyid ʿAlī Khamenei, in which he decreed:

[Even] the deprecation of the notables of our Sunni brothers is forbidden (ḥarām), to say nothing of the denunciation of the wife of the Prophet (the blessings of Allah upon him and his progeny) so as to violate her honor—this is rather not even possible in respect of the wives of the prophets [in general] and especially in the case of their master, the Greatest Messenger (the blessings of Allah upon him and his progeny).[6]یحرم النیل من رموز إخواننا السنة فضلاً عن اتهام زوج النبي (صلّى الله عليه وآله) بما يخل بشرفها بل هذا الأمر ممتنع على نساء الأنبياء وخصوصاً سيدهم الرسول الأعظم (صلّى الله عليه وآله).

Now, those sectarians who are sincere in their defense of their limited version of truth bring forth from traditional sources proofs for their perspective. On one level, it is easy to respond to them by saying that they are only seeing one side of the story and are not giving due attention to other traditions which oppose and may even abrogate their own proofs. But this, though perhaps sufficient for some, would be a superficial response. For while it is true that such individuals are guilty of absolutizing the limited truth that is in their possession, the very existence of such traditions which allow them to do so is a matter that is open to questioning. Why do there exist narrations and traditions in the Shiʿi corpus that would be found offensive to Sunnis and vice versa? Is it the case that these traditions have simply been fabricated? Do they, as the sectarians would have us believe, allude to the fact that the other side is totally wrong and that there is only one sect that will be saved, all the others deserving only hellfire? Or can there be another explanation for these polemical traditions?

The Dome of the Rock (مسجد قبة الصخرة‎), on the Temple Mount in the Old City of Jerusalem.

One possible explanation comes from the mystics of Islam. In their discussions on the beautiful names of Allah, they talk of two different realities which they refer to with the expressions, “the marriage of the names” and the “opposition of the names”.[7]تناكح بين السماء والتقابل الذي في الأسماء The latter phrase outlines the necessity of the opposition of certain names with others on the plane of manifestation. They stress the fact that this opposition here only highlights the greatness of the unity that prevails on the higher planes. To them the qualitative plenitude of God’s unicity directly implies His rich multiplicity, along with its apparent conflicts and differences.

It is in this light that there can be “necessary antagonisms” among the madhāhib; for in its attempt to fully manifest its idea and “name”, each madhhab seeks to forge an identity that is “separate” from the others.

…for in its attempt to fully manifest its idea and “name”, each madhhab seeks to forge an identity that is “separate” from the others.

The polemics that follow serve to maintain its integrity and allow for the madhhab to display its particular genius. Hence the existence of certain divisive traditions—usually based on historical details and facts—is perhaps the madhhab’s way of keeping the lowest of their adherents within the fold.

However, what kept these traditions from feeding the flames of rampant sectarianism in the past was the existence of higher levels of intellectuality and a living spirituality as embodied in the ʿulamāʾ and the saints of Islam. These accomplished souls made sure that the madhhab was firmly grounded in the doctrines and principles of Islam formally speaking, that it was in continuous communion with the Prophetic presence on the substantial level, and that it was open to spiritual wayfaring on the essential plane. Of course, those who could reach this last stage were few indeed, but it was they who used the full capacity of their intellect to see the unity that lies beyond the opposition and antagonism in the manifested order, and it is they who would then (re)turn to the people to enjoin them to work towards unity.

تَحْسَبُهُمْ جَمِيعًا وَقُلُوبُهُمْ شَتَّىٰ

You suppose them to be a united body, but their hearts are disunited. That is because they are a lot who do not intellect.[8]Qurʾan, al-Ḥashr (59):14.

Unity is based upon the coming together of the hearts; disunity is their being dispersed. Disunity is a sign of an absence of true intellectuality. Imam ʿAlī (ʿa), who was the very embodiment of principled intellectuality after the Prophet (ṣ), wholeheartedly practiced the Qurʾanic imperative of unity and avoided creating disunity at all costs. Āyatullāh Jawādī Āmulī writes:

Ḥaḍrat Amīr al-Muʾminīn (ʿa) was foremost in not being tainted by any type of sectarianism nor sullied by any kind of internecine discord; his way was always in line with universal agreement [and general consent].[9]Jawādī Āmulī, The Expectation of Mankind from Religion, p. 127.

Hence, in a letter to Abū Mūsā al-Ashʿarī, Imam ʿAlī (ʿa) wrote:

وليس رَجُلٌ فاعلم أحرص على جماعةِ أمّةِ محمدٍ (ص) وأُلفَتِها مِنّي أبتَغِي بذلك حُسْنَ الثوابِ وكَرَمَ المآبِ

There is not a man—heed this—more anxious to preserve the integrity and union of the ummah of Muḥammad (ṣ) than I. I seek for this [nothing but] a goodly reward and a noble end [with Allah].[10]Nahj al-Balāgah, sermon 78.

The Imam warned of the dangers of disunity in this way:

فَإياكم والتَّلَوُّنَ في دين اللهِ فإنَّ جماعةً فيما تَكرَهونَ من الحقِّ خيرٌ من فُرقَةٍ فيما تُحِبُّونَ من الباطلِ وإِنَّ اللهَ سبحانَه لم يُعْطِ أحداً بِفُرقَةٍ خيراً مِمَّنْ مضى ولا مِمَّن بَقِي

Beware of subjecting God’s religion to vagaries [and whims]. Indeed unity for the truth, though disliked by you, is better than divisiveness for a falsehood that you like; and indeed Allah, glory be to Him, has given no good to anyone on account of division and disunity—neither in the past nor in the future.[11]Nahj al-Balāgah, sermon 176.

Hence, when we give our own “color” (talawwun) to religion and limit it by forcing it to confine to the limits of our human imperfections and nafsānī predilections, we open the way to a false happiness or smugness with regards to the product of our caprice. We label this created sect and contrived faction with the word “religion”, not realizing that in doing so we effectively put an end to the true nature of religion and stifle its ability to act as an open-ended vehicle of transformation (an upaya, as the “upper” end of religion must necessarily involve the unlimited, infinite, and mysterious). This caricature of religion, being thus delimited and cut off vertically from its infinite source, the Real, is also cut off horizontally from other such caricatures, leading to contrariety and opposition with them.

Such division and divisiveness is liked by the lower soul as it is “happy” with its “own” creation and wishes for it to supersede all others.

فَتَقَطَّعُوا أَمْرَهُم بَيْنَهُمْ زُبُرًا ۖ كُلُّ حِزْبٍ بِمَا لَدَيْهِمْ فَرِحُونَ

But they fragmented their religion among themselves, each party exulting in what it had.[12]Qurʾan, al-Muʾminūn (23):53.

If on the other hand, we do not color the religion of Allah with our own hands, and we take what has come to us of the truth from Him—knowing it to be both the truth and limited—and use it to transcend ourselves by going beyond the lower caprice of our souls, though difficult and disliked by them, we will be able to see the limited truth in other divine dispensations and in other religious people. This subtle and sublime vision might enable us to unite with them for the sake of the higher Truth and His wish to be known in His infinite plenitude; but failing that, it must at the very least make us refrain from indulging in sectarianism that is the kiss of death of spirituality as such.

Notes   [ + ]

1. ⇧ In many of his speeches, Imam Khumaynī (r) reminded his audience that if all of the prophets were to be gathered in one place and at one time, they would not have any conflict or discord with one another. See: http://www.hawzah.net/Hawzah/magazines/MagArt.aspx?MagazineNumberID=4334&id=28408
2. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Rūm (30):30-32.
3. ⇧ Sulṭān Muḥammad Gunābādī, Tafsīr Bayān al-Saʿādah fī Maqāmāt al-ʿIbādah, vol. 3 (Beirut, 1988), p. 221.
4. ⇧ Qurʾan, Yūsuf (12):106.
5. ⇧ al-Kulaynī, al-Kāfī, vol. 2, p. 25.
6. ⇧ یحرم النیل من رموز إخواننا السنة فضلاً عن اتهام زوج النبي (صلّى الله عليه وآله) بما يخل بشرفها بل هذا الأمر ممتنع على نساء الأنبياء وخصوصاً سيدهم الرسول الأعظم (صلّى الله عليه وآله).
7. ⇧ تناكح بين السماء والتقابل الذي في الأسماء
8. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Ḥashr (59):14.
9. ⇧ Jawādī Āmulī, The Expectation of Mankind from Religion, p. 127.
10. ⇧ Nahj al-Balāgah, sermon 78.
11. ⇧ Nahj al-Balāgah, sermon 176.
12. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Muʾminūn (23):53.

Intellection in the Islamic Tradition: A Lecture by Shahīd Muṭahharī

By
Shahid Murtaza Mutahhari
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The following is the transcript of a lecture series by Shahīd Murtaẓā Muṭahharī to the Islamic Association of Doctors in Iran, delivered in the years 1973-1974. The series was later published, then translated by Dr. Mansoor Limba under the title Training and Education in Islam (Ahlul Bayt University, 2011), and can be purchased here. The translation has been slightly edited for clarity and readability.

 

Intellection (Taʿaqqul) in the Qurʾan

Islam strongly advocates intellection (taʿaqqul). I shall cite a Qurʾanic verse and a tradition which mentions this verse. We read in Surat al-Zumar:

فَبَشِّرْ عِبَادِ ٱلَّذِينَ يَسْتَمِعُونَ ٱلْقَوْلَ فَيَتَّبِعُونَ أَحْسَنَهُۥٓ ۚ أُو۟لَٰٓئِكَ ٱلَّذِينَ هَدَىٰهُمُ ٱللَّهُ ۖ وَأُو۟لَٰٓئِكَ هُمْ أُو۟لُوا۟ ٱلْأَلْبَٰبِ

“So give good news to My servants who listen to what is said and follow the best of it. They are the ones whom Allah has guided, and it is they who possess albāb.”[1]Qurʾan, al-Zumar (39):17-18.

The subject begins with “My servants.” It is as if the Qurʾan wants to say that to be Allah’s servant, one must have a certain description and this description would be a requisite for being His servant—that such a servant “listens to what is said.” Samāʿ (to hear) is different from istimaʿ (to listen). Samaʿ means to hear something whether you intended to listen or not. Istimāʿ means to hear but with attention. For example, you take a seat here [in this lecture hall] and prepare yourself for listening [to a lecturer]. Regarding [ḥarām] music, it is said that hearing it is not harām; what is harām is listening to it. The Qurʾan in this verse is describing those who listen to what is said. It means they do not reject any word which they have not yet discerned, and they do not say that they do not want to listen to it. They listen first and then make an assessment and an analysis afterward. They evaluate good and bad, and choose and follow the best of what they have heard. In essence, the verse highlights the independence of the intellect or reason (ʿaql) which must serve as a filter for humankind. He must filter all that he hears, meticulously assessing what is good and bad, and choosing and following the best of it.

The verse continues: “They are the ones whom Allah has guided.” Although this guidance is a rational one, the Qurʾan regards it as divine guidance. They are the ones who truly possess intellect (ulu al-albāb). Albāb is the plural form of the word lubb, which means kernel, not only in the sense of a “mind” but is used in a general sense, and is often used to describe fruits or foods. For example, we speak of a “walnut’s kernel.” Perhaps this is one of those expressions used exclusively by the Qurʾan (as we have not encountered this usage in other texts). Even if it were not the case, we can say that the Qurʾan uses the word “kernel” in many instances in describing the intellect. It is as if the Qurʾan likens man to a walnut or an almond which is entirely covered, but his essential part is his kernel which is located within. If you consider the entire human body and its limbs, his kernel is his intellect or reason. What shall we call an almond without a kernel? We say that it is empty or hollow, and it is thrown away. A person who lacks intellect does not possess the kernel and criterion of humanity; he is a hollow person. He is human in form but not in content. As such, intelligence sums up the meaning of “humanity” to that extent; to be intelligent bespeaks of his independence—“who listen to what is said and follow the best of it.” Basically, one cannot find an expression better than this call for man to support his independence: he must have the power to assess and evaluate. He must be able to analyze issues. A person who does not possess this talent is lacking something essential.

Basically, one cannot find an expression better than this call for man to support his independence: he must have the power to assess and evaluate.

Taʿaqqul in the Sunnah

In the sunnah,[2]Editor’s note: The Arabic word sunnah can be generally translated as “tradition” or “norm.” In the parlance of Shiʿi Islam it refers to the speech and actions of the Prophet Mohammad and the Imams (ṣ). especially in Shiʿi narrations, the intellect or intellection has been given much importance. One of the merits of Shiʿi narrations compared to non-Shiʿi narrations is the greater importance and authority given to the intellect. For this reason, social writers today including Sunnis acknowledge that in the Islamic period, Shiʿi reasoning has been stronger than its Sunni counterpart.

Aḥmad Amīn has a famous quadrilogy entitled Fajr al-Islām, Ḍuhā al-Islām, Ẓuhr al-Islām, and Yawm al-Islām. Fajr al-Islām is a single volume treatise. Ḍuhā al-Islām has three volumes. Ẓuhr al-Islām has four volumes. Yawm al-Islām is a one volume book. All-in-all, the quadrilogy has nine volumes. The treatise is very technical and, of course, from a Shiʿi perspective, it has ample points of weakness. In fact, some have even considered it an anti-Shiʿa book, but academically it is no doubt profound.

Although a renowned anti-Shiʿa, in this book Amīn acknowledges that Shiʿi reasoning has always been more deductive. He wants to drive home the point that the reason why Shiʿi reasoning is more deductive is that they are more familiar with speculative interpretations (taʾwīlāt).[3]Editor’s note: Taʾwīl (pl. taʾwīlāt) is a technical term that is translated here as the esoteric interpretation of the Qurʾanic text. It refers primarily to meanings of Qurʾanic statements that are beyond, yet in consonance with, the surface-level meaning of the text. For more information regarding taʾwīl, see “Qurʾanic Taʾwīl: Comparing the Views of Ibn ʿArabī and ʿAllāmah Ṭabāṭabāʾī.” But the truth of the matter is that the ones responsible for this condition are the infallible Imams (ʿa) who have invited people to thinking and intellection. Amīn says, “For example, philosophy during the Islamic period flourished among the Shiʿa and not as much among the Sunnis. Philosophy was non-existent in Egypt until it was ruled by the Shiʿa. When the Shiʿa came, philosophy flourished. Then, as Shiʿism was no longer dominant in Egypt, philosophy also diminished and was almost non-extant until the last century when Sayyid Jamāl (who was a Shiʿa) came to Egypt and the intellectual market flourished again.” Then he (Amīn) has this pleasant expression:

والحق أن الفلسفة بالتشيع الصق منها بالتسنن

“The truth is that philosophy adheres more to Shiʿism than it does to Sunnism.”

In general, according to him, Shiʿi reasoning is more deductive. The reason for this—which perhaps he did not pay attention to—is that compared to its Sunni counterpart, the Shiʿi tradition has given more importance to it. In scholastic theology (kalām), Sunnis were divided into two opposite camps from the beginning, viz. Muʿtazilites and the Ashʿarites. The Muʿtazilites were more inclined to rationalism while the Ashʿarites leaned more to taʿabbud. The Shiʿa were with the Muʿtazilites; they had a difference of opinion with the Muʿtazilites but in principle they were together. Their commonality was that both gave more value and importance to reason and reasoning. In Shiʿi narrations, there are wondrous expressions about the intellect which cannot be found in Sunni books. Shiʿi books like al-Kāfī, Biḥār al-Anwār, and other hadith collections begin with Kitāb al-ʿAql wa-l-Jahl (The Book of Intellect and Ignorance), followed by sections on Tawḥīd, Prophethood, and Ḥujjah.[4]Tawḥīd means the belief in the Unicity of Allah, the principle belief of Islam. Ḥujjah means ‘authority’, and may refer to any means of obtaining evidentiary value to act a certain way, whether that be a religious text or religious personality, such as a prophet or imam. Of course, reason or intellect is juxtaposed with ignorance which I shall explain. We can see that Shiʿi narrations give remarkable value and respect to reason and its validity.

The Intellect (ʿaql) and Ignorance (jahl) in Islamic Aḥādīth

It is no trifling matter for an Imam to say that Allah has two types of authority (ḥujjah): an outward authority and an inward authority. The outward authority refers to the Prophets (ʿa) while the inward authority denotes the intellects of people.[5]The author is referring to the following report from Imam al-Kāẓim: يا هشام إن لله على الناس حجتين: حجة ظاهرة وحجة باطنة، فأما الظاهرة فالرسل والأنبياء والأئمة – عليهم السلام -، وأما الباطنة فالعقول. ” Hishām! God has two types of authority against humankind: an outward authority and an inward authority. The outward (authority) is the prophets, messengers, and imams—peace be upon them. The inward (authority) is the intellects. (Al-Kulaynī, Al-Kāfī, vol. 1, book 1, hadith 12, p. 16.) This hadith is an established truths among the Shiʿi aḥādīth, and can be found in al-Kāfī. Now, some may have rejected the purport of this hadith, i.e., whether or not the intellect is actually authoritative. It is not my concern here to refute this objection. In the end of the day, this concept exists (among Shiʿi aḥādīth).

It is no trifling matter for an Imam to say that Allah has two types of authority (ḥujjah): an outward authority and an inward authority. The outward authority refers to the Prophets (ʿa) while the inward authority denotes the intellects of people.

“Ignorance” (jahl) which is mentioned in this tradition is the exact opposite of intellect (ʿaql), and in Islamic narrations, ʿaql refers to the analytical faculty. In most cases you can see, Islam disparages the ignorant. As the opposite of “learned”, jāhil does not mean “illiterate.” Rather, it means the opposite of intelligent. An āqil is one who does not possess this ability. We know of many individuals who are learned yet they are jāhil. They are learned in the sense that they have outwardly vast knowledge. They know many things. Yet, their minds are nothing but storerooms. They have no ijtihād of their own.[6]Ijtihād generally means to strive or work hard. It technically refers to the process by which a person contemplates, thinks, and researches in order to come to a conclusion. In Islamic law, ijtihād would refer to the process of deriving legal conclusions from religious sources. They have no ability to inference. They cannot analyze issues. According to Islam, such people are ignorant in the sense that their intellects are dull. They may be knowledgeable but their intellects are dull.

We have heard the following narration frequently:

الحكمة ضالة المؤمن

Wisdom is the lost property of the faithful.

No doubt, wisdom means knowledge with real substance, which is profound and deep rooted and not a delusion. That is, the state of the faithful in seeking truths must be like that of a person who has lost something valuable and is always looking for it. There are other narrations which add to this. There was a time when I listed the references for this narration and I found close to twenty versions. One such reference states:

خذوا الحكمة ولو من أهل النفاق…و لو من مشرك

Acquire wisdom even from the people of hypocrisy…even if they may be polytheists.

That is, if you feel that what he has is right and is knowledge or wisdom, do not worry about whether he is an unbeliever, polytheist, impure, or non-Muslim. Go and take it. Wisdom is yours and is only borrowed by him.

أينما وجدها فهو أحق بها

“Wherever he finds it, he is more deserving of it.”

That is, whenever a believer finds wisdom, he must consider himself more worthy to possess it.

Let us not mind this (contemporary) backwards intellectual state of ours in which everything we have is negatively perceived. In the early part of the second century when the spread of Islam was at its height, suddenly texts of all sciences of those outside the Muslim world—Persians, Byzantium, Indian, Greek—were translated and introduced to the Muslim world. What was the reason behind this and why did the Muslim world not show any opposition? The reason was that there are such teachings such as this. These teachings paved the way such that if a book were found even in far-off China, there would be nothing wrong in translating it:

اطلبوا العلم ولو بالصين

Seek knowledge even if it is in China.

For example, ʿAbd Allah ibn al-Muqaffaʿ who translated the book Aristotelian Logic lived during the time of Imam al-Ṣādiq (ʿa); rather, actually from the Umayyad period, but it reached its peak during Imam al-Ṣādiq’s (ʿa) time. During the imamate of some of the Imams during the reign of the Abbasid Caliphs Hārun and Maʾmūn, texts of the primary sciences were voluminously translated. Bayt al-Ḥikmah was a school which was unprecedented in the world at the time and matchless for some time afterward.

Yes, our Imams (ʿa) were critical of the caliphs and exposed their deviations again and again. As the caliphs were accursed and rejected, the Imams (ʿa) unveiled the true colors of these people. Yet, we cannot see even a single tradition or narration of our Imams (ʿa) suggesting that efforts such as Bayt al-Ḥikmah should be treated as a bidʿah in religion.[7]Bidʿah generally means innovation. Here it refers to the technical meaning of Islam’s general prohibition of introducing changes or additions into religious practice and attributing them to religion where one has no authority to do so. The Imams could have said, “One of the harmful things to have happened to our community has been the translation of scientific texts of the unbelieving nations, such as the Greeks, Byzantines, Indians, and Persians, and the introduction of them into the Muslim world.” This was in spite of the fact that a statement like this would have been among the best means to tarnish their image with the common people. However, we have not seen even a single tradition in which this work of the caliphs was portrayed as an act of bidʿah and therefore contrary to Islam.

My point is that it is a principle which is introduced by Islam itself: “Acquire wisdom even from the people of hypocrisy.” Traditions related to this subject have excellent content. There is a tradition in our collection in which Jesus Christ (ʿa) is reported to have said:

كونوا نقاد الكلام

Be a critic of speech.

My point is that it is a principle which is introduced by Islam itself: “Acquire wisdom even from the people of hypocrisy.”

That is, just as the money-changer weighs a coin, identifying what is more or less valuable in it and taking the more valuable, likewise you must also be such with respect to speech and points of argument. We take whatever others have [which is valuable and good]. We have our own thinking and intellects. We are not afraid that we are doing something wrong by this. We think about such statements, and we take whatever is good in them and reject whatever is bad in them. Now, what is the basis for this idea: “Acquire wisdom even if it were from hypocrites, the faithless, or from polytheists?” It is this Qurʾanic injunction:

فَبَشِّرْ عِبَادِ ٱلَّذِينَ يَسْتَمِعُونَ ٱلْقَوْلَ فَيَتَّبِعُونَ أَحْسَنَهُۥٓ ۚ أُو۟لَٰٓئِكَ ٱلَّذِينَ هَدَىٰهُمُ ٱللَّهُ ۖ وَأُو۟لَٰٓئِكَ هُمْ أُو۟لُوا۟ ٱلْأَلْبَٰبِ

So give good news to My servants who listen to what is said and follow the best of it. They are the ones whom Allah has guided, and it is they who possess albāb.[8]Quran, al-Zumar (39):17-18.

A Narration from Imam Mūsā al-Kāẓim (ʿa)

There is a famous narration recorded in al-Kāfī from Imam Mūsā ibn Jaʿfar al-Kāẓim (ʿa) addressed to Hishām ibn al-Ḥakam. Hishām was one of our hadith narrators but he was a narrator who often focused on the doctrinal pillars of faith (usūl al-dīn).[9]Usūl al-Dīn translates to “Principles of Religion”, and generally refers to matters of faith, such as to believe in the Oneness of Allah, the Day of Resurrection, and the Prophethood of Mohammad (ṣ). Usūl al-Dīn can be contrasted with furūʿ al-dīn, which translates to “Branches of Religion” and refers to matters of religious practice, such as prayer, fasting, and bidding others to do good and prohibiting them from evil. In the parlance of that time, he was known as a mutakallim[10]Mutakallim refers to a scholastic theologian. although he himself would likely have been reluctant to accept this label. He used to engage with the theologians. That is, he used to discuss tawḥīd, prophethood, maʿād,[11]Maʿād generally means “to return” but here refers specifically to the belief in the Day of Resurrection. and the general principles of religion. There is a consensus of opinion among Sunnis and Shiʿa that Hishām was one of the most distinguished theologians during his time.

Recently, in preparation for writing the book A Historical Study of Mutual Services of Islam and Iran,[12]The original title in Farsi is Khadamāt-i Mutaqābil-i Islām wa Īrān. I read the very profound book, The History of the Science of Theology[13]The original title in Farsi is Tāhrīkh-i ʿIlm-i Kalām. by Shibli Nuʿmānī, the Indian scholar.  In narrating the life of Abū al-Hadhīl Allāf—an outstanding theologian who was of Persian origin and by whose hand many Zoroastrians of Persia became Muslims—I noticed that Nuʿmānī thus wrote: “Everyone would avoid debating with Abū al-Hadhīl who, in turn, would avoid debating with Hishām ibn al-Ḥakam.”

The point is that Hishām, who was highly talented, and academically and intellectually engaged, was spoken to by Imam Mūsā ibn Jaʿfar (ʿa). The Imam (ʿa) told him:

يا هشام! إن الله تبراك و تعالى بشّر أهلَ العقلِ والفهمِ في كتابِه فقال:  فَبَشِّرْ عِبَادِ ٱلَّذِينَ يَسْتَمِعُونَ ٱلْقَوْلَ فَيَتَّبِعُونَ أَحْسَنَهُ…

O Hisham! Allah, the Blessed, the Exalted, gave good news in His Book to the people of intellect and understanding: “So give good news to My servants who listen to what is said and follow the best of it. They are the ones whom Allah has guided, and it is they who possess albāb.”[14]Muhammad Bāqir al-Majlisī, Biḥār al-Anwār, vol. 1, pg. 132, and Tuḥaf al-ʿUqūl, vol. 1, pg. 383.

The above noble verse mentions the intellect, which its basic function is analysis, filtering, and separating the correct from the incorrect.

One of the intellect’s functions is the acquisition of knowledge and learning, which is not that important. But to analyze, digest, scrutinize, and separate the correct from the incorrect, it is only then that the intellect in its true sense begins to function.

There are two excellent statements of Abū ʿAlī ibn Sīnā[15][Editor’s Note:] Abū ʿAlī al-Ḥusayn ibn ʿAbd Allāh ibn Sīnā Balkhī, or Ibn Sīnā (c. 980-1037) was a Persian polymath, and arguably the most influential philosopher and physician of the Islamic world. that can be both found in the book al-Ishārāt. One is as follows:

من تعود أن يصدق بغير دليل فقد إنخلع من كسوة الانسانية

Whoever is accustomed to accepting a statement without any reason has ceased being human.[16]Al-Ishārāt, or in full, al-Ishārāt wa-l-Tanbīhāt was a later work of Abu ʿAlī ibn Sīnā, consisting of four parts, viz. logic, physics, metaphysics, and mysticism. [Trans.]

But to analyze, digest, scrutinize, and separate the correct from the incorrect, it is only then that the intellect in its true sense begins to function.

That is, a human being does not accept a statement without reason. On the contrary, it is also bad for a person to reject everything without any reason. He says:

كل ما قرع سمعك من العجائب فذره في بقعة الامكان ما لم يذدك عنه قائم البرهان

Regarding all the strange things that reach your ear, allow for the possibility of it, so long as you have not a proof for or against it.[17]Ibn Sīnā, al-Ishārāt wa-l-Tanbīhāt, vol. 3 (Qumm: Daftar Nashr al-Kitāb), 418.

That is, if you hear something strange, do not reject it so long as you know it could be possible, nor should you accept it outright. Say instead, “It could be so.” A real human being is one whose acceptance or rejection is based on reason, and whenever there is no authority to establish its correctness or incorrectness, that person should say, “I do not know.”

ً

The Necessity for Combining the Intellect and Knowledge

The narration of Imam [Mūsā] (ʿa) is very elaborate. I will only quote parts of it. The Imam (ʿa) then said that one must not be content with the intellect alone. The intellect must be coupled with knowledge. The intellect has an instinctive or natural state which everyone has, and knowledge enhances the intellect. The intellect must be nourished by knowledge. In Nahj al-Balāghah and other hadith collections, the intellect and knowledge are described as such. Sometimes, knowledge is called al-masmūʿ (that which is heard from outside of the self) while sometimes it is referred to as al-matbūʿ (that which is innate within the self). That is, one type of knowledge is described as ʿilm while the other type of knowledge is described as ʿaql. The difference is this: the former is called al-matbūʿ, which implies that it is innate and natural, while the latter is called al-masmūʿ implying that it is a type of acquired (iktisābī) knowledge and not innate. It is greatly emphasized that the “heard intellect” and “innate knowledge” are useful when they both function in their own respective ways. Meaning, people who are passive recipients function simply as storage vessels for pieces of information, and are strongly censured in aḥādīth.

What Bacon Says

In a famous and excellent quotation, Francis Bacon is reported to have said that learned men are of three types. Some are like ants. They always bring grains from the outside and store them. Their minds are like storage rooms. In reality, they are like tape recorders. They record whatever they hear. A second type are those who resemble silk-worms. They weave their own thread from within themselves. They are not really learned men because they do not acquire anything from the outside. They want to produce something out of their imagination. Their impending end, however, is suffocation inside their own cocoons. A third type are those who are like honeybees. They extract the juice of flowers and they produce honey from it.[18]Francis Bacon, The New Organon, Book 1, Aphorism 95.

This question of the “heard intellect” and the “innate intellect” is mentioned in the hadith. “Heard knowledge” is not sufficient if it is not accompanied by its “innate” counterpart. That is, one must digest whatever he or she has acquired from outside through this inward power–this analytical faculty–so as to produce something useful.

Then the Imam (ʿa) said:

يا هشام! ثم بيّن أن العقل مع العلم

O Hishām! It is clear that the intellect (ʿaql) is in alliance with knowledge (ʿilm).

As such, it is stated in the Qurʾanic verse:

وَتِلْكَ ٱلْأَمْثَٰلُ نَضْرِبُهَا لِلنَّاسِ ۖ وَمَا يَعْقِلُهَآ إِلَّا ٱلْعَٰلِمُونَ

And We draw these parables for mankind; but no one grasps them except those who have knowledge.[19]Qur’an, al-ʿAnkabūt (29):43.

That is, one must digest whatever he or she has acquired from outside through this inward power–this analytical faculty–so as to produce something useful.

That is, one must have knowledge at the outset. He must procure the raw material and then have the intellect to analyze it. For example, if I have a strong intellect like that of Abū ʿAlī ibn Sīnā, and the Qurʾan says that history gives very good moral lessons, but I do not have any knowledge of history, what can my intellect understand? Or, we are told that there are divine signs and symbols in this entire world of creation and at the same time I have an excellent intellect, yet I do not know the raw materials of this creation. What can I understand with my intellect, and how can I discover those divine signs? I must discover them through knowledge and understand them through my intellect.

The Question of Taqlīd

يا هشام! ثم ذم الذين لا يعلمون فقال: وَإِذَا قِيلَ لَهُمُ ٱتَّبِعُوا۟ مَآ أَنزَلَ ٱللَّهُ قَالُوا۟ بَلْ نَتَّبِعُ مَآ أَلْفَيْنَا عَلَيْهِ ءَابَآءَنَآ ۗ أَوَلَوْ كَانَ ءَابَآؤُهُمْ لَا يَعْقِلُونَ شَيْـًۭٔا وَلَا يَهْتَدُون

O Hishām! Allah has further censured those who do not exercise their reason with the words, “When they are told, ‘Follow what Allah has sent down,’ they say, ‘We would rather follow what we found our fathers following.’ What, even if their fathers neither applied reason nor were guided?”[20]Qur’an, al-Baqarah (2):170.

We have heard a lot about taqlīd. The Qurʾan has strongly opposed what is known today as “traditionalism,” or the acceptance of whatever was in the past. This sheep-like attitude in man; this blind imitation of predecessors, forefathers, or ancestors merely on the basis of their being forefathers or ancestors. I have noticed that whenever a Prophet (ʿa) encountered his people, there was one thing given emphasis and to which he called his people, but there were two or three common issues encountered by every Prophet (ʿa). Some were positive while others were negative. For example, tawḥīd is something positive presented by every Prophet (ʿa). One of the common things encountered by every Prophet (ʿa) and which every nation dealt with was the imitation of predecessors: “We do not accept what you say because it is something new and we are accustomed to the way of the past generation and our forefathers and we follow their path.” This state of submission to those who were in the past is something against reason. The Qurʾan wants man to choose his way according to his intellect. Thus, the campaign of the Qurʾan against imitation or the so-called “traditionalism” is a campaign in favor of the intellect.

Following the Majority

Another issue is that of number. Just as the sheep-like individual follows his predecessors, man wants to be identified with the majority. As the saying goes, “If you do not want to be disgraced, then join the majority.”

If the majority is a disgrace, then joining it is a disgraceful act. However, man has a strong inclination to join the majority. There are many such cases among the fuqahāʾ.[21]Fuqahāʾ (sing. faqīh) refers to the class of Islamic jurists. A faqīh infers an issue but he has no courage to express it. He would investigate and see whether or not there is a jurist or jurists who share his opinion. It is very rare for a jurist to express his fatwā (legal opinion) after he finds out that no jurist before him had issued such an edict before. That is, he is frightened when he finds out that he is alone. The same is true in other fields. These days, however, it is as if to be individual has become the fashionable thing, perhaps as the Europeans have inspired. Meaning, the situation has tilted to the other extreme. Everyone strives to be unique and to be known to have a new idea. It is the exact opposite of our predecessors. If they had something to say, our predecessors were reluctant to do it alone. In order to give the impression that they were not alone, they would mention others who share their views. Abū ʿAlī ibn Sīnā thus explained: “Whatever I say, I would quote from Aristotle because if I claim it to be my own, no one would believe it.” Mulla Sadra persisted on quoting his predecessors and explaining his ideas through their words because, at the time, following the majority was in vogue. Today, the case is the opposite. If someone says something which is already said by someone else, it no longer has value. In any case, the Qurʾan condemns taking the majority as the criterion for something being true.

The Imam (ʿa) states that the Qurʾan condemns the majority when it states:

وَإِن تُطِعْ أَكْثَرَ مَن فِى ٱلْأَرْضِ يُضِلُّوكَ عَن سَبِيلِ ٱللَّهِ ۚ إِن يَتَّبِعُونَ إِلَّا ٱلظَّنَّ وَإِنْ هُمْ إِلَّا يَخْرُصُونَ

If you obey most of those on the earth, they will lead you astray from the way of Allah. They follow nothing but conjectures and they do nothing but surmise.[22]Qurʾan, al-Anʿām (6):116.

That is, if you follow the majority of people, you will be misguided because they do not follow reason; they follow conjecture and speculation. They follow whatever they speculate. Since most people are like that, you must not trust the majority.

This is in itself another way of giving independence to the intellect and an invitation to the fact that the intellect is the criterion for something being correct.

Not Following the Whims and Caprice of People

The Imam (ʿa) continued in the hadith, saying, “O Hishām! Do not trust what people say. Do not trust their judgement. The judgement must be yours. O Hishām! If there is a walnut in your hand and people say that what is in your hand is a pearl, you should not be deceived by them, since you know that it is indeed a walnut. On the contrary, if you have a pearl in your hand and everyone you meet says that it is a walnut, you should not believe them. If all people say that it is a walnut where in fact it is not, you must follow your own judgement, intellect, and reason as your guide.”

The discussion on intellect ends here for now…We have many citations from the Qurʾan and the sunnah regarding the intellect, and I think we have discussed enough as it relates to education. Islam advocates nourishment, development, and independence of the intellect, and does not advocate its suppression, undermining, or extinction.

Notes   [ + ]

1. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Zumar (39):17-18.
2. ⇧ Editor’s note: The Arabic word sunnah can be generally translated as “tradition” or “norm.” In the parlance of Shiʿi Islam it refers to the speech and actions of the Prophet Mohammad and the Imams (ṣ).
3. ⇧ Editor’s note: Taʾwīl (pl. taʾwīlāt) is a technical term that is translated here as the esoteric interpretation of the Qurʾanic text. It refers primarily to meanings of Qurʾanic statements that are beyond, yet in consonance with, the surface-level meaning of the text. For more information regarding taʾwīl, see “Qurʾanic Taʾwīl: Comparing the Views of Ibn ʿArabī and ʿAllāmah Ṭabāṭabāʾī.”
4. ⇧ Tawḥīd means the belief in the Unicity of Allah, the principle belief of Islam. Ḥujjah means ‘authority’, and may refer to any means of obtaining evidentiary value to act a certain way, whether that be a religious text or religious personality, such as a prophet or imam.
5. ⇧ The author is referring to the following report from Imam al-Kāẓim: يا هشام إن لله على الناس حجتين: حجة ظاهرة وحجة باطنة، فأما الظاهرة فالرسل والأنبياء والأئمة – عليهم السلام -، وأما الباطنة فالعقول. ” Hishām! God has two types of authority against humankind: an outward authority and an inward authority. The outward (authority) is the prophets, messengers, and imams—peace be upon them. The inward (authority) is the intellects. (Al-Kulaynī, Al-Kāfī, vol. 1, book 1, hadith 12, p. 16.)
6. ⇧ Ijtihād generally means to strive or work hard. It technically refers to the process by which a person contemplates, thinks, and researches in order to come to a conclusion. In Islamic law, ijtihād would refer to the process of deriving legal conclusions from religious sources.
7. ⇧ Bidʿah generally means innovation. Here it refers to the technical meaning of Islam’s general prohibition of introducing changes or additions into religious practice and attributing them to religion where one has no authority to do so.
8. ⇧ Quran, al-Zumar (39):17-18.
9. ⇧ Usūl al-Dīn translates to “Principles of Religion”, and generally refers to matters of faith, such as to believe in the Oneness of Allah, the Day of Resurrection, and the Prophethood of Mohammad (ṣ). Usūl al-Dīn can be contrasted with furūʿ al-dīn, which translates to “Branches of Religion” and refers to matters of religious practice, such as prayer, fasting, and bidding others to do good and prohibiting them from evil.
10. ⇧ Mutakallim refers to a scholastic theologian.
11. ⇧ Maʿād generally means “to return” but here refers specifically to the belief in the Day of Resurrection.
12. ⇧ The original title in Farsi is Khadamāt-i Mutaqābil-i Islām wa Īrān.
13. ⇧ The original title in Farsi is Tāhrīkh-i ʿIlm-i Kalām.
14. ⇧ Muhammad Bāqir al-Majlisī, Biḥār al-Anwār, vol. 1, pg. 132, and Tuḥaf al-ʿUqūl, vol. 1, pg. 383.
15. ⇧ [Editor’s Note:] Abū ʿAlī al-Ḥusayn ibn ʿAbd Allāh ibn Sīnā Balkhī, or Ibn Sīnā (c. 980-1037) was a Persian polymath, and arguably the most influential philosopher and physician of the Islamic world.
16. ⇧ Al-Ishārāt, or in full, al-Ishārāt wa-l-Tanbīhāt was a later work of Abu ʿAlī ibn Sīnā, consisting of four parts, viz. logic, physics, metaphysics, and mysticism. [Trans.]
17. ⇧ Ibn Sīnā, al-Ishārāt wa-l-Tanbīhāt, vol. 3 (Qumm: Daftar Nashr al-Kitāb), 418.
18. ⇧ Francis Bacon, The New Organon, Book 1, Aphorism 95.
19. ⇧ Qur’an, al-ʿAnkabūt (29):43.
20. ⇧ Qur’an, al-Baqarah (2):170.
21. ⇧ Fuqahāʾ (sing. faqīh) refers to the class of Islamic jurists.
22. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Anʿām (6):116.

A Drop in the Sea: The Life and Character of Mirza al-Shirazi

By
Sayyid Musa Shubayri al-Zanjani
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How do we live a life of both knowledge and piety, of critical investigation and a profound faith in the Unseen? Traditionally, Muslims would listen to and share anecdotes from the lives of their eminent scholars, to draw inspiration on how to combine the seemingly conflicting virtues of scholarship and devotion. In the process, they would keep alive the memory of those pious figures, and connect themselves to the legacies those scholars bestowed to the larger community.

One such exemplary scholar was Sayyid Muhammad Ḥasan al-Shīrāzī, also known as Mīrzā al-Shīrāzī, whose piety and scholarship were revered far beyond the confines of the seminaries of higher learning. Mīrzā al-Shīrāzī was born in 1230 A.H./1814 C.E., to a scholarly family in Shiraz, and began his studies from a very young age in that city. He traveled first to the city of Isfahan, then to the seminaries of Iraq to continue his education. He was one of the most distinguished disciples of the singular marjiʾ of his time, Shaykh Murṭaḍā al-Anṣārī, who he succeeded as the primary marjiʿ of the Shiʿi world. Later, Mīrzā al-Shīrāzī moved to the predominantly Sunni city of Samarra, establishing that city as a center of Shiʿi learning for generations of scholars after him. It was in Samarra that he issued his famous decree banning tobacco use, so as to oppose the Qajar Nasir al-Din Shah’s 1889 concession to a British corporation. The concession had given the British a monopoly on all tobacco produced, sold, and exported from Iran. This decree of Mīrzā al-Shīrāzī was one of his lasting legacies, not only because of its effectiveness in ending the concession in a matter of months, but also for its later social and political ramifications in Iranian society. Mīrzā al-Shīrāzī died in 1312 A.H./1895 C.E., and is buried in Najaf.

The following anecdotes are reported by the contemporary marjiʿ, Sayyid Mūsā al-Shubayrī al-Zanjānī, and collected in his book, Jurʿeh-yi az Daryā. They are presented in a casual yet authoritative tone. On the one hand, they mirror the tradition of hadith-reports that begin by mentioning a chain of narrators; on the other, they are accounts by some of Mīrzā’s closest students and devotees of his personal virtues and erudition. We hope that these anecdotes can inspire ways of living a life of virtue, and can renew a memory and connection to those pious scholars within the Shiʿi tradition.

Transliteration note: This article was translated from Persian, and will reflect the original language of the author. It will generally not reflect the Arabic-specific transliteration standards, for example the definite article (al-) before names, e.g. “Mīrzā Shīrāzī”.

The Four Pillars

All four pillars of a true scholar—characteristics which if found in someone indicate that he is worthy of the status and rank of marjiʿiyyah—were present in the person of Mīrzā Shīrāzī. These characteristics are: an unparalleled scholarship and knowledge, piety and fear of God, a completely virtuous character, and, finally, an unmatched intellect. These four characteristics were present in their most perfect form in the person of Mīrzā Shīrāzī. No one can doubt the scholarship and knowledge of Mīrzā. Even if there were no evidence of his knowledge other than his students and disciples, they would suffice in proving his scholarship. The very fact that every true thinker and scholar after Mīrzā was trained by him proves the greatness of his scholarship. This is similar to Waḥid Bihbahānī, who trained students like the great Baḥr al-ʿUlūm, Ṣāḥib al-Rīyāḍ, Kāshif al-Ghiṭāʾ, Mīrzā Mahdī Shahristānī, Sayyid Muḥsin Aʿrajī and Mulla Mahdī Narāqī. The caliber of these students testifies to the excellent level of Bihbahānī’s own scholarship.

In Shiʿi history, there are two scholars—two true masters—whose students were the most important scholars of their [respective] eras: one is Waḥīd Bihbahānī, the other, Mīrzā Shīrāzī.

A Father’s Test

Additionally, Mīrzā Shīrāzī truly loved scholarship. Meaning, in addition to the fact that he was a profound thinker and master-scholar, he also had a special affinity for learning. I have heard the following examples in support of this:

One such case is the following: Sayyid Ḥājj Mahdī Rūḥānī narrates from his uncle, the late Sayyid Aḥmad, who in turn narrates from the late Sayyid Abd al-Hādī, and he from the late Mīrzā ʿAlī Shīrāzī, the son of Mīrzā [Shīrāzī], who was a marjīʿ al-taqlīd in his own right. Mīrzā ʿAlī said, “Towards the end of Mīrzā’s final illness, his health had deteriorated to such an extent that it wasn’t clear whether he had passed or was still alive. We had to somehow determine his state. One person said to Mīrzā, ‘A dignitary on behalf of the Ottoman government has come to visit your graciousness.’ The signs of life did not appear in Mīrzā’s body. Another said, “The Iranian ambassador has come to pay his respects.’ But there was still no effect.”

Mīrzā ʿAlī then said, “I know how to test my father’s state of consciousness.” He then whispers in the ear of Mīrzā Shīrāzī, “What is the ruling of burnt bread?” Mīrzā stirs. Then he says, “How shall we determine its ruling? Insofar as it falls under the category of eating the repulsive (khabīthah), should we say that it is forbidden? Or should we say that it is forbidden insofar as it is harmful? Or do we say that if we were to prohibit it, then the unburnt bread that is mixed with the burnt would also be wasted? The corollary of this prohibition, therefore, would be the prohibition of another thing [that was not originally prohibited], and this causes a conflict in act. From this respect then, should we say that the prohibition is not in effect?” Mīrzā analyzed all those derivations while in that state on his deathbed.

Unbroken Silence

I heard from the late Shaykh Riḍā Zanjānī, who narrated from the late Shaykh [Abd al-Karīm Hāʾirī,] who said, “We were sitting in Mīrzā’s lecture, when one of Mīrzā’s top-tier students began a side discussion (I believe it may have been Sayyid Muḥammad Fishārakī or someone else who was also among his most prominent students). In the middle of his lecture, Mīrzā says to Sayyid Muḥammad, “Sir, please be quiet.” Sayyid Muḥammad is dismayed, and says, “Sir, we were both talking. Why do you single me out for reproach? Why do you only direct your criticism to me? Why do you only address me?” (This next section was reported by Shaykh Murtaḍā Ḥāʾirī.) It is at this moment that Mīrzā says, “These issues that you are just now considering, we thought about and resolved 40 years ago. We even considered other issues [that you have not even thought of.]” Mīrzā becomes upset. He falls into a total and unbroken silence, and no one else would dare speak. (This next section was also narrated by Shaykh Riḍā Zanjānī.) After a long while, Mīrzā Muḥammad Taqī Shīrāzī tried to break the silence. He asked a question about a passage from Shaykh [Anṣārī’s] book on ritual purity. He asked, “Sir, what does this statement of the Shaykh mean?” And Mīrzā proceeds to explain the text.

[The late Shaykh Abd al-Karīm Ḥāʾirī][1]It should be noted that Shaykh ʿAbd al-Karīm al-Hāʾirī was one of the preeminent marājīʿ of his time, and reestablished the Qumm seminary in the 20th century. Shaykh al-Hāʿirī’s own intellectual achievement is what makes his following statement so exceptional. said, “I am so full of regret that I did not write what [Mīrzā] said in response. Afterward, however much we tried to make sense of that passage, we could not decipher it. We simply could not understand what Shaykh [al-Anṣārī] was attempting to convey. It seems that [the passage] was not clear for Mīrzā Muḥammad Taqī either.”

This anecdote provides an insight into how astute but critical Mīrzā was of his own intellectual positions. At times, when we approach a tradition as long lasting and intricate as Islamic law or legal theory, it is difficult to appreciate how critical scholars can be of that tradition’s received conclusions. As this anecdote shows, eminent Shiʿi scholars are constantly engaged in the process of reconsidering the fatāwā and conclusions of their forebearers. At the same time, those scholars understand their precarious position as stewards of God’s law, and recognize their own intellectual limitations. Thus, they are careful to not reach hasty conclusions or overrule fatāwā of their predecessors, particularly those that have passed the test of time, lasting the critical scrutiny of multiple generations of previous scholars. There are some parallels here to other academic disciplines, like the various fields of science or law, where the consensus of a community of scholars is treated with value and thoughtful consideration. These two qualities, of critical renewal but also of a reluctance to diverge from received wisdom, characterize the internal logic that animates Islamic law, a logic that can be difficult for a person not steeped in the Islamic legal tradition to decipher. 

In addition, the anecdote is telling of Mīrzā’s self-restraint. His measured response to his student’s unfounded criticism is telling not only of his erudition, but of his total command of his behavior; in the face of a frustrating situation, he chose silence.

Adults and children recite the Qurʼan in the sanctuary outside the holy burial site of Imam Husayn (ʿa).

Intellectual Acuity

In terms of his thinking, he had an incredibly astute and dexterous mind. In general, Najafi-style discussions and Samarra’i-style discussion are fundamentally different; they abide by two entirely different methods. Conclusive statements are a hallmark of Najafi scholars, whereas uncertainty and inconclusive statements are the signature method of Samarra’ī scholars. Shaykh Mujtahidi used to phrase it in this way: the quintessential word of Najafis was “Indeed,” (innamā) whereas the quintessential word of Samarrāʾī scholars was “Perhaps” (laʿalla).

Anyway, because Mīrzā’s mind was so adroit, he would frequently reconsider his scholarly positions. He was also a very pious and God-fearing individual. If he wanted to simply present his juridical decree (fatwā) quickly and without due consideration, he would fall in dubious legal territory. Hence he would frequently say, “Obey precaution [in this issue],” and would rarely present his juridical decree. Sometimes arguments are made against a jurist who calls to precaution (iḥityāṭ), namely that it causes undue burden and is difficult to abide by. Some jurists defend the call to legal precaution by stating, “Mīrzā fulfilled the role of marjī-i taqlid for a very long time, and he would call his followers to abide by precaution. And yet, this call to precaution did not cause any major problems or conflicts.”

Both in terms of his knowledge and scholarship and in terms of his piety the Mīrzā was unanimously revered and deferred to by all the eminent students and scholars of his time, all of whom were exceptional in their own piety and other qualities. Take, for example, Mīrzā Muḥammad Taqī Shīrāzī. Even Fāḍil Ardakānī—who was a peer of Shaykh Anṣārī and then held the same rank as Mīrzā Shīrāzī—called others to follow Mīrzā’s juridical opinions. He would take issue with anyone else who would write their own legal manuals (and declare their marjīʿiyyah), saying, “Has it been somehow ordained that every other person will write a legal manual? The Mīrzā is a great scholar and is also very pious.”

Mīrzā’s Forbearance

Hajj Sayyid Abū al-Faḍl Zanjānī would narrate the following from his father, Ḥājj Sayyid Muḥammad Zanjānī, “I once visited Mīrzā, and he was busy responding to a legal query (istiftāʾ). A sayyid entered, and requested some (financial) assistance. Mīrzā didn’t attend to him. The sayyid then snapped, “On the Day of Judgment, all this gold and silver will become snakes and scorpions. It will all become fire, and will be hung from your neck!”

Mīrzā’s acquaintances and servants wanted to force the man out because of his disrespectful behavior, but Mīrzā, who had the highest level of adab, did not permit them to do so, and forbade them from bothering the man. He called the man back, and when he returned, Mīrzā apologized, saying, “I was in the middle of responding to a legal query and didn’t notice your request.” He then gave the man some money, and the man left. As he was leaving, the only response that Mīrzā uttered was, “It is clear that this gentleman’s utter desperation has caused him to lose his patience.” This is all that Mīrzā said in response [to that man’s disrespect.]

Don’t Involve Yourself!

Mīrzā Shīrāzī’s intellectual genius is universally accepted. Many anecdotes are reported in this regard. For example, there was a time (in Samarra) when tensions between the Shiʿa and Sunni were very high, to such an extent that it led to some violent and fatal conflicts. The situation was so dire that the late Shaykh Mujtahidi Tabrizi narrates from Hajj Shaykh Abd al-Karim Ha’iri, who said, “There was some furniture and wares in our basement that needed to be moved and relocated to a different house. We called a porter, and however much we urged him to come and assist in moving the wares, he would refuse. He was afraid that if he were to enter the basement, he would be held and then killed. Anyway, the situation in those days was that difficult and tense.

It was during such circumstances that the British sent an envoy to Mīrzā to assist him. The envoy said, “We will provide you with whatever assistance you request. We are at your service.” Mīrzā responded, “This is a domestic dispute. Two brothers are having a disagreement. It is not right for an outsider to involve himself. We will resolve this ourselves; the situation does not call for your involvement.”

In short, he did not accept their offer. The Ottoman sultan got wind of this event. He, in turn, sent the following notice: “Mīrzā is to be obeyed in whatever issue he ordains. Act according to his decree.” But Mīrzā does not permit this (either).

Mīrzā’s Acuity and Astuteness

Mīrzā was an incredibly intelligent person, and was profoundly perceptive and discerning. Ḥājj Sayyid Riḍā Ṣadr narrated a story from the famous public lecturer, Ḥājj Shaykh Ansari,[2]This is not the famous Shaykh Murṭaḍā al-Anṣārī, who was a teacher of Mīrzā al-Shīrāzī. who in turn narrated from Shaykh ʿAbd al-Karīm Hāʾirī, who said:

Towards the end of Mirzā’s life, when Mīrzā’s authority and legitimacy were both extensively acknowledged, it was hard to get an audience with him, because of the large number of meetings people requested. Of course, he was very advanced in age, and there were many issues for him to attend to. Therefore, every few days or so, he would hold a public audience so as to attend to the concerns of all the people who wanted to visit him. During one of these public sessions, some individuals noticed that Mīrzā is paying attention to a particular individual. Regardless of whoever else proceeds to pay their respects to Mīrzā, he still has his attention set on that individual. Until finally, it is that individual’s turn to step forward and pay his respects to Mīrzā. Mīrzā asks him, for example, “Where are you from?” The man responds, “From Karbala.” Mīrzā asks, “Why have you come here?” He says, “I have come to study here in Samarra.” Mīrzā then says, “I command you return to Karbala immediately. I will provide for you the same stipend and privileges of the students who study in this city, but in Karbala. You must return to Karbala immediately.”

Mīrzā then calls his servant and asks him, “When does the [next] train depart?” He says, for example, “Half an hour from now.” Mīrzā then says, “Take this man to the train [station] immediately, and wait there until he is able to embark for Karbala. Then, you may return.”

Half an hour or so later, Mīrzā continues to ask, “Why has the servant not returned?” He was anxiously waiting as he counted down the minutes until his servant’s arrival. Finally, the servant returned, and Mīrzā says, “Did you send him on his way?” He says, “Yes.” Mīrzā replies, “Were you personally there when the train departed?” He responds, “Yes.” Mīrzā asks, “So his departure is final?” He says, “Yes.” Mīrzā would continuously ask until it was certain that the individual had returned to Karbala.

Later, some of those close to Mīrzā asked him, “Why did you have this individual return to Karbala with such determination?” He responded, “I deciphered from this individual’s appearance that if he were to remain in Samarra, he would disrupt all the work we have done here by just reciting certain curses.[3]Mīrzā was concerned here that the student would recite curses against individuals revered by other Islamic schools of thought. All the work we have done and all the difficulties we have endured in successfully quelling the disputes between the Sunnis and the Shiʿa so that this city may become a center for the Shiʿa, these would all be ruined because of one such act. All that effort would be for naught if he were to recite a single curse in the ḥaram [of Samarra].”

Later, some people reported meeting that individual, and he said, “What a decent man Mīrzā is! He didn’t even let me recite a single [curse!]”

This story is telling of the incredible sagacity and astuteness of Mīrzā. He was aware and sensitive to such issues, and could discern the attitudes and behaviors of people simply by seeing them.

The Perfection of Virtues

In short, Mīrzā was an incredible person. One could dare say that such an individual, who has acquired all these disparate perfections within himself, is rare among our scholars. He was a person who was both at the peak of scholarship, and was also an exemplar of virtuosity; he had both immense piety, and a profound intellect.

 

Notes   [ + ]

1. ⇧ It should be noted that Shaykh ʿAbd al-Karīm al-Hāʾirī was one of the preeminent marājīʿ of his time, and reestablished the Qumm seminary in the 20th century. Shaykh al-Hāʿirī’s own intellectual achievement is what makes his following statement so exceptional.
2. ⇧ This is not the famous Shaykh Murṭaḍā al-Anṣārī, who was a teacher of Mīrzā al-Shīrāzī.
3. ⇧ Mīrzā was concerned here that the student would recite curses against individuals revered by other Islamic schools of thought.

The Heritage of Scholars: A Review of Agha Buzurg al-Tihrani’s al-Dhariʿah

By
Dr. Aun Hasan Ali
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One way of uncovering the intellectual depth of a community is to look at the scholarly works that community has produced since its inception. In the following detailed synopsis, Dr. Aun Hasan Ali explores a renowned work in bibliographical studies, al-Dharīʿah ilā Taṣānīf al-Shiʿah, by Aqā Buzurg Tihrānī, a unique and indispensable work that provides us a glimpse into the vast intellectual legacy of Shiʿi scholarship.

Aqā Buzurg was born in 1293 A.H./1875 C.E. to a scholarly family in Tehran, Iran, and studied in Tehran, Najaf, and Samarrā under the most eminent scholars of his time, including Mīrzā Husayn Nūrī, Ākhūnd Muḥammad Kāẓim al-Khurāsānī, and Muḥammad Taqī al-Shīrāzī, all students of the famous Mīrzā Shīrāzī.[1]For more information regarding Mīrzā Shīrāzī’s life and personality, see A Drop in the Sea: The Life and Character of Mīrzā al-Shīrāzī.  He died in the year 1389 A.H./1970 C.E., and is buried in his personal library in Najaf.

 

Al-Dharīʿah ilā Taṣānīf al-Shīʿah by Muḥammad Muḥsin, known as Āqā Buzurg Tihrānī (d. 1970), is a comprehensive bibliographical study of Imāmī Shiʿi works written before its composition in 1958. The Beirut edition (1983) is comprised of 25 parts in 28 volumes. It contains 53,510 entries on a broad range of subjects, including Qurʾanic exegesis, hadith, law, theology, science, history, poetry, and belles lettres. Arabic, Persian, Turkish and Urdu titles are listed in alphabetical order.

But al-Dharīʿah is more than just a list of works. Āqā Buzurg added informative introductions to major topics and also discussed the history and transmission of texts. Works that are known by more than one title are cross-referenced, and the sources of references to works that are no longer extant are mentioned. Individual entries range in length from just a few lines to several pages. Many entries include a summary of the contents of the book and a list of manuscripts and printed editions. Volumes 9/1 to 9/4 contain material on poetry. Volume 16 and onward contain author indexes. A separate index of authors called Muʿjam Muʾallifī al-Shīʿah by ʿAlī al-Fāḍil al-Qāʾīnī was published in 1984. Volumes 17 onwards include titles of Ismāʿīlī works listed in Ismāʿīl b. ʿAbd al-Rasūl’s (d. 1769 or 70) Fihrist al-Kutub wa-l-Rasāʾil, on which W. Ivanow based his A Guide to Ismaili Literature. In cases where the identity of an author is not clear, Āqā Buzurg reviews the evidence and at times offers his own valued opinion. However, some people have criticized the attribution of particular works. Āqā Buzurg’s son ʿAlī Naqī Munzavī has noted these criticisms in the entry on his father in Ṭabaqāt Aʿlām al-Shīʿah.

Al-Dharīʿah is said to have been written in response to Taʾrīkh Ādāb al-Lughat al-ʿArabīyah by Jurjī Zaydān (d. 1914), which slighted the contribution of Shīʿīs to Arabic literature. Āqā Buzurg began working on it in 1911 in Sāmarrā in Iraq. At the time of his death, twenty-four volumes had been published. Volume 25 was published in 1978, and a supplement entitled Mustadrakāt al-Muʾallif was published in 1985. With the exception of volumes thirteen and fourteen, which were edited by Muḥammad Ṣādiq Baḥr al-ʿUlūm, the entire work was edited by Āqā Buzurg’s sons, ʿAlī Naqī and Aḥmad Munzavī. The contents of al-Dharīʿah are based on Āqā Buzurg’s own research, his visits to private and public libraries all over the Middle East, and the catalogues of libraries in Europe, Turkey, and South Asia.

There are a number of mistakes in the published edition. Much of the responsibility for these mistakes falls on the shoulders of the editors, who made changes to the original manuscript. Recently, several scholars have undertaken the task of correcting these mistakes. Al-Sayyid ʿAbd al-Azīz al-Ṭabāṭabāʾī al-Yazdī (d. 1995) wrote a supplement to al-Dharīʿah that has been published; al-Sayyid Saʿīd Akhtar al-Riḍawī al-Hindī (d. 2002) wrote Takmilat al-Dharīʿah,[2]Nuskhah Paẓūhī, 2 (1426 A.H.): 537-93 which includes works written after 1958, particularly works by South Asian ʿulamāʾ; al-Sayyid al-Riḍawī also wrote al-Taʿlīqāt ʿalā al-Dharīʿah[3]Nuskhah Paẓūhī 3 (1427 A.H.): 627-82 in which he corrected several titles and biographical details; and al-Sayyid Aḥmad al-Ḥusaynī al-Ishkawarī made a number of corrections in ʿAlā Hāmish al-Dharīʿah.[4]Nuskhah Paẓūhī, 3 (1427 A.H.): 597-661.

Notes   [ + ]

1. ⇧ For more information regarding Mīrzā Shīrāzī’s life and personality, see A Drop in the Sea: The Life and Character of Mīrzā al-Shīrāzī.
2. ⇧ Nuskhah Paẓūhī, 2 (1426 A.H.): 537-93
3. ⇧ Nuskhah Paẓūhī 3 (1427 A.H.): 627-82
4. ⇧ Nuskhah Paẓūhī, 3 (1427 A.H.): 597-661.

Qurʾanic Taʾwīl: Comparing the Views of Ibn ʿArabī and ʿAllāmah Ṭabāṭabāʾī

By
Shaykh Hamid Raza Fazil
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In this article, Shaykh Hamid Raza Fazil explores two central issues regarding the Qur’an: how do we understand the words of the Qur’an? And how do those words point us towards the ultimate goal of the Qur’an, the ethical and metaphysical realities that underlie and compose our existence? Shaykh Fazil explores these questions through the views of two major Qur’anic mufassirs in Islamic history: the 6th-century mystic, Muḥyī al-Dīn Ibn ʿArabī, and the 20th-century mufassir and philosopher-sage, ʿAllāmah Muḥammad Ḥusayn al-Ṭabāṭabāʾī.

This article is translated by Dr. Syed Rizwan Zamir, associate professor of religion at Davidson College in Davidson, North Carolina. The Qurʾanic translations are loosely based on Arberry’s The Koran Interpreted: A Translation.

Introduction

God Almighty says: “It is He who sent down upon thee the Book, wherein are verses clear that are the Essence of the Book, and others ambiguous. As for those in whose hearts is swerving, they follow the ambiguous part, desiring dissension, and desiring its interpretation; and none knows its interpretation, save only God. And those firmly rooted in knowledge say, ‘We believe in it; all is from our Lord’; yet none remembers, but men possessed of minds.”[1]Qurʾan, Āl ʿImrān (3):5.

In this brief article, we will explore the reality of taʾwīl, a Qurʾanic concept about which there is significant disagreement among scholars. First, however, the difference between the related terms tafsīr and taʾwīl needs to be clarified. Although some scholars consider these two terms to be the same, and have in fact themselves engaged more in taʾwil instead of tafsīr, more precise scholars (muḥaqqiqūn) affirm a difference between the two.

Tafsīr

Dictionaries define tafsīr in the following way: (1) to discuss and explain something (fassara al-bayān); (2) to lift a veil (kashf al-qināʿ); and (3) to lift a veil from the face of someone (kashf al-mughaṭṭā).[2]Lisān al-ʿArab, s.v. “f-s-r.” In its technical usage, tafsīr refers to “the meaning of Qurʾanic verses, and the discovering what is intended by them and what they are referring to.” (Wa-huwa bayānu maʿānī al-ayāt al-qurʾāniyyah wa-l-kashf ʿan maqāṣidiha wa-madālīliha)[3]Tafsīr al-Mīzān, vol. 1 (Beirut: Muʾassasah al-Aʿlamī li-l-Maṭbūʿāt, 1390 S.H.), p.4. In other words, to discuss the meaning of the Quranic verses and to lift veils from its hidden purport (madlūlāt) is called tafsīr. Therefore, translation pertains to the outward meaning, whereas tafsīr deals with a veiled meaning.

Taʾwīl

Dictionaries define it as, “to return a thing [to its origin],” (al-awl: al-rujūʿ—awwala illayh al-shayʾ—rajaʿahu).[4]Lisān al-ʿArab, s.v. “a-w-l.” From this general meaning, our discussion pertains specifically to taʾwīl of Qurʾanic verses. Well-known exegetes and religious scholars explain its technical meaning as any act or statement taken to its finality and end. For example, if a verse has various meanings, the one that becomes the final meaning will be called its taʾwīl. Similarly, if a person carries out an act without clarity about its final goal and only determines its goal afterwards, it will be called taʾwīl.

Examples include: (1) the story of Moses (ʿa) and Khidr (ʿa), where, Khidr (ʿa) carried out some acts in Moses’s company—acts whose goal was unclear, and faced objections from Moses (ʿa). In the end, Khidr (ʿa) explained his objectives, namely, that the reason for boring a hole in the boat was to protect it from an unjust and oppressive ruler. He said, “As for the ship, it belonged to certain poor men, who toiled upon the sea; and I desired to damage it, for behind them there was a king who was seizing every ship by brute force.” (Qurʾan, al-Kahf (18):79.). (2) If a person sees a dream, and its meaning is unclear, then it is called taʾwīl. For example, when Joseph (ʿa) saw a dream and found it occurring in the outside world (khārij), he said, “’See, father,’ he said, ‘this is the interpretation of my vision of long ago; my Lord has made it true.’”[5]Qurʾan, Yūsuf (12):100.

Similarly if there are specific meanings and secrets hidden in the speech of the speaker that constitute his or her final goal and objective, they are called taʾwīl. This is the same meaning of taʾwil that the Qurʾan refers to, namely the deeper meanings of God’s words and their final aims which are disclosed to the human person.

Taʾwīl According to Ibn ʿArabī

In Ibn ‘Arabi’s view, taʾwīl can be of two types:

  1. Blameworthy: When theologians and philosophers attempt to explain away the outward aspects of a verse when it appears contradictory to reason. This is blameworthy taʾwīl because they employ their deficient reason to explain the verse.
  2. Praiseworthy: The way of the folk of Allah and the gnostics (ʿurafāʾ), which he also names a “sign” (ishārah). Gnostics employ their unveiling (kashf) and witnessing (shuhūd) to understand Qurʾanic verses; the hidden meaning (maʿānī bāṭiniyyah) that is bestowed to them by Allah, the Most Exalted, through inspiration is called taʾwīl. For Ibn ʿArabī, it is this taʾwīl that is praiseworthy.

The first type of taʾwīl is the way of the theologians and philosophers. Ibn ʿArabī does not deem it valid. Attempting to avoid the term “people of taʾwīl” (ahl al-taʾwīl) for himself, he instead calls them [i.e., theologians and philosophers] the people of taʾwīl. [That said], he ascribes the particular taʾwīl to gnostics, referring to the verse, “[A]nd none knows its interpretation (taʾwīl), save only God. And those firmly rooted in knowledge say, ‘We believe in it; all is from our Lord’; yet none remembers, but men possessed of minds.” [6]Qurʾan, Āl ʿImrān (3):7.

For Ibn ʿArabī, “those firmly rooted in knowledge” are the gnostics, because human thinking does not intervene in their teachings. He also calls them “people of signs.” In his view, just as the descent of the Qurʾan is from God, the Most Exalted, similarly, the understanding of the Qurʾan also descends from God, the Most Exalted, upon the hearts of the believers. Hence understanding also comes from God. However, the text of the Qurʾan is not limited by these esoteric meanings. Rather, new meanings are always found.[7]Muḥyi al-Dīn ibn al-ʿArabī, “Maʿrifat al-Ishārāt,” in al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyyah, vol. 10 (n.p., n.d.), p. 279. See also, Nasr Hamid Abu Zayd, Falsafat al-Taʾwīl (al-Markaz al-Thiqāfī al-ʿArabī, 2014), p. 267-8. )

Taʾwīl According to ʿAllāmah Ṭabāṭabāʾī

ʿAllāmah Ṭabāṭabāʾī, in his book, Tafsīr al-Mizān, mentions the following regarding the reality behind taʾwīl:

الحق في تفسير التأويل أنه الحقيقة الواقعية التي تستند اليها البينات القرانية من حكم او موعظة او حكمة… وأنه ليس من قبيل المفاهيم المدلول عليها بالافاظ

The reality behind explaining the taʾwīl (tafsīr al–taʾwīl), is that it is true (extra-mental) reality, and the Qurʾanic verses, whether those that convey Islamic laws, exhortations, or some intellectual wisdom, all are based and sourced in that reality…this reality is not a purely conceptual one that can be referred to by words.[8]al-Mīzān, vol. 3, p. 49.

المراد بتأويل الآية ليس مفهوما من المفاهيم تدل عليه الآية…بل هو من قبيل الأمور الخارجية…

What is meant by the taʾwīl of a verse is not a type of concept that can be completely indicated by or contained within that verse…rather it is of a type that refers to an external reality.[9]al-Mīzān, vol. 3, p. 46-7.

وتاويل القران هو المأخوذ الذي يأخذ منه معارفه‏

The tawʾīl of the Qurʾan is derived. From it, in turn, is derived profound understanding and knowledge.[10]al-Mīzān, vol. 3, p. 23.

For ʿAllāmah Ṭabāṭabāʾī, taʾwīl is not a question of words and meaning, but instead refers to an objective reality. Words, after all, provide signification (dalālah) to bring the mind closer to this reality. But it is not possible for words to encompass and exhaust that reality’s scope. Words only indicate. The reality of the Qurʾan is contained in the protected tablet (al-lawḥ al-maḥfūẓ), which is with us is the form of words in the book. These words and their meanings are not taʾwīl; rather taʾwīl is that true objective reality from which all knowledge/gnosis, Qurʾanic prescriptions, injunctions, and wisdom draw their life. The words of the Qurʾan are reflections of this reality, which is the esoteric Qurʾan; access to this reality and taʾwīl is for God, the Most Exalted, and the Pure Infallibles.

Who are these Infallibles? Allah has mentioned them in Sūrat al-Aḥzāb: “People of the House, God only desires to put away from you abomination and to cleanse you.” Therefore, only Ahl al-Bayt can carry out the taʾwīl of the Qurʾan. It is this meaning of taʾwīl that helps us understand the Qurʾanic verse, “All that is wet and dry is within the Qurʾan,”[11]Qurʾan, al-Anʿām (6):59. “Not a grain in the earth’s shadows, not a thing, fresh or withered, but it is in a Book Manifest. and that is possible only when we place the Ahl al-Bayt alongside the Qurʾan. It is so because according to the Qurʾan and hadith-reports the Noble Prophet (ṣ) and his Ahl al-Bayt are the only Holy Beings (dhawāt muqaddasah) that have access to the Qurʾan. This also clarifies those aḥādīth that declare, “Without us, the Ahl al-Bayt, you cannot understand the Qurʾan.”[12]Comparable aḥādīth include the following hadith from Imam al-Bāqir (ʿa): “Only a liar will claim to have collected the entire Qurʾan as it was revealed [other than the Ahl al-Bayt.]  None have compiled, memorized, and preserved [the Qurʾan] exactly as Allah revealed except for ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib and the Imams after him.” (Al-Kulaynī, al-Kāfī, vol. 1 (Tehran: Dār al-Kutub al-Islāmiyyah, 1407), hadith #1, p. 228) And: “…only he who is addressed by the Qurʾan truly knows it.” (Al-Kulaynī, al-Kāfī, vol 8, hadith #485, p. 311.) For more such aḥādīth, see Muḥsin al-Fayḍ al-Kāshānī, “Towards the Sacred Text: The Importance and Value of the Qurʾan in the Life of a Believer,” translated by Azhar Sheraze. Therefore, Ahl al-Bayt are needed in every era to understand the Qurʾan. The reality of the Shiʿi interpretive tradition is also made clear through this meaning of taʾwīl. They claim that they derive religion and its teachings from Ahl al-Bayt. No companion of the Prophet, other than the Ahl al-Bayt, has claimed a special access to the true reality of the Qurʾan. This claim is only made in the Shiʿi tradition, whose source is the teachings of Ahl al-Bayt.

Synthesis and Conclusions

There are three stages to understanding the Qurʾan: (a) tarjamah (translation), relating to the outward words and their meaning; (b) tafsīr, explaining the meanings of the verses; and (c) taʾwīl, about which three views have been presented. They are:

  1. The popular view, that some meanings of [particular Qurʾanic] words and/or the ultimate meaning sought is taʾwīl;
  2. Ibn ʿArabī’s view, that the hidden meaning that is bestowed by God Almighty is taʾwīl;
  3. ʿAllāmah Ṭabāṭabāʾī’s view, that Qurʾanic words and meanings are derived from reality and that reality is taʾwīl.

According to the popular view, taʾwīl is not related to the whole of the Qurʾan, but only to certain verses, namely, those that are ambiguous. According to Ibn ‘Arabi’s view taʾwīl is possible for the whole of the Qurʾan, regardless of whether they are ambiguous or clear verses. This is so because the whole of the Qurʾan has hidden meanings that are bestowed from God, the Most Exalted. According to ʿAllāmah Ṭabāṭabāʾī as well, taʾwīl of the Qurʾan belongs to the entire Qurʾan, because the reality of all verses exists independent of their words.

According to the popular view and that of ʿAllāmah Ṭabāṭabāʾī, knowledge of taʾwīl is with God and those firmly rooted in knowledge (i.e., Ahl al-Bayt). However, according to Ibn ‘Arabi, those rooted in knowledge are all gnostics, whether they are of Ahl al-Bayt or not.

According to the popular view and that of Ibn ‘Arabi, taʾwīl is related to Qurʾanic words and their meaning. However, according to ʿAllāmah Ṭabāṭabāʾī, taʾwīl is not related to words, but rather to reality and objective existence.

The meaning of the Qurʾanic verse, “nor is there a single grain in the darkness of the earth, or anything, fresh or withered, that is not written in a clear Book”[13]Qurʾan, al-Anʿām (6):59. is best understood if we accept ʿAllāmah Ṭabāṭabāʾī’s view. That is to say, in every age and era the reality of the words of the Holy Qurʾan can only be explained by Ahl al-Bayt. It is so because only these personalities are truly deserving of the title, “those who have knowledge of the Book.”[14]Qurʾan, al-Raʿd (13):43. Hence, in every age, Ahl al-Bayt are needed to understand the Qurʾan, regardless of whether the particular science in question regards legal rulings, wisdom, or exhortations. Only Ahl al-Bayt can explicate the Qurʾan’s true meaning and purpose, for only they fully know the reality of things.

 

Notes   [ + ]

1. ⇧ Qurʾan, Āl ʿImrān (3):5.
2. ⇧ Lisān al-ʿArab, s.v. “f-s-r.”
3. ⇧ Tafsīr al-Mīzān, vol. 1 (Beirut: Muʾassasah al-Aʿlamī li-l-Maṭbūʿāt, 1390 S.H.), p.4.
4. ⇧ Lisān al-ʿArab, s.v. “a-w-l.”
5. ⇧ Qurʾan, Yūsuf (12):100.
6. ⇧ Qurʾan, Āl ʿImrān (3):7.
7. ⇧ Muḥyi al-Dīn ibn al-ʿArabī, “Maʿrifat al-Ishārāt,” in al-Futūḥāt al-Makkiyyah, vol. 10 (n.p., n.d.), p. 279. See also, Nasr Hamid Abu Zayd, Falsafat al-Taʾwīl (al-Markaz al-Thiqāfī al-ʿArabī, 2014), p. 267-8.
8. ⇧ al-Mīzān, vol. 3, p. 49.
9. ⇧ al-Mīzān, vol. 3, p. 46-7.
10. ⇧ al-Mīzān, vol. 3, p. 23.
11. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Anʿām (6):59. “Not a grain in the earth’s shadows, not a thing, fresh or withered, but it is in a Book Manifest.
12. ⇧ Comparable aḥādīth include the following hadith from Imam al-Bāqir (ʿa): “Only a liar will claim to have collected the entire Qurʾan as it was revealed [other than the Ahl al-Bayt.]  None have compiled, memorized, and preserved [the Qurʾan] exactly as Allah revealed except for ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib and the Imams after him.” (Al-Kulaynī, al-Kāfī, vol. 1 (Tehran: Dār al-Kutub al-Islāmiyyah, 1407), hadith #1, p. 228) And: “…only he who is addressed by the Qurʾan truly knows it.” (Al-Kulaynī, al-Kāfī, vol 8, hadith #485, p. 311.) For more such aḥādīth, see Muḥsin al-Fayḍ al-Kāshānī, “Towards the Sacred Text: The Importance and Value of the Qurʾan in the Life of a Believer,” translated by Azhar Sheraze.
13. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Anʿām (6):59.
14. ⇧ Qurʾan, al-Raʿd (13):43.

Discovering the Unseen: An Interview on Istikhārah with Shaykh Muḥammad ʿAlī Girāmī

By
Taqrirat Journal
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The following is an interview with Shaykh Muḥammad ʿAlī Girāmī Qummī, a well-regarded mujtahid and teacher of the Qumm seminary. Shaykh Girāmī has also become well-known in the past few decades for his inspired istikhārahs, which he regularly conducts in person and by telephone after the maghrib and ʿishāʾ prayers. Born in the year 1317 S.H. (1938 C.E.), he hails from a line of esteemed scholars; his grandfather, the late Shaykh Abu al-Qāsim Kabīr al-Qummī, was among the foremost scholars of Qumm who resided and taught in the city’s seminary even before the arrival of Shaykh Abd al-Karīm Hāʾīrī’s in the year 1301 S.H. (1922 C.E.). Shaykh Girāmī was a student of some of the foremost scholars of the 20th century, including Sayyid al-Burūjirdī, Imām al-Khumaynī, Sayyid Muḥaqqiq Dāmād, Shaykh Murtaḍā Hāʾirī Yazdī, and Shaykh Farīd Arākī.

The following interview was conducted at the end of 2016 by a French sociologist studying the various social and religious functions of the practice of istikhārah. In it, Shaykh Girāmī explores the nature of the istikhārah, a sanctioned means by which a believer consults God when facing a difficult or perplexing decision. Shaykh Girāmī explains the spiritual grounds of the istikhārah, the various methods of conducting it, and how a seeker should understand and approach it in terms of his decision-making process. The transcript was first published in the Persian-language monthly, Taqrīrāt, and is translated and reprinted here with permission. (Click here for the original Persian-language transcript.)

What is an istikhārah? Is it just a way of seeking the grace and blessings of God?

Istikhārah is of two types: the first is a prayer to attain something desired, which is the [literal meaning of istikhārah, namely] “seeking what is good,” from God. The second type is a means of consulting God, so that He may show us the path that leads to the preferred decision. This second type can be conducted either by means of the Qurʾan or a tasbīḥ (rosary). We have religious evidence that justifies both forms of istikhārah. We know that humans are quite frequently stuck at a crossroads, and must decide and choose how to act. If they are undecided after having reflected deeply and consulted others, they can seek an istikhārah. For example, one can do an istikhārah for a marriage prospect, for an important business transaction, or even for accepting an important responsibility. The istikhārah is a miracle of and a blessing from the Ahl al-Bayt for their Shiʿah during the occultation of the twelfth Imam, and allows them to make good decisions.

On what issues do people request you to conduct an istikhārah?

People will seek an istikhārah for all the various types of issues they may face, issues they cannot resolve or make a decision about on their own. And they see its beneficial results; why else would they continue to seek istikhārahs? I have even had a case where someone sought an istikhārah in a judicial matter, where the judge could not decide which way to rule, and he then turned to an istikhārah. After we conducted the istikhārah, and told him that he has misunderstood the facts of the case, he refrained from his issuing his judgment, went back, reviewed his notes, and saw that what the istikhārah had stated was correct. He was really elated. Afterward, he even came and told us the results of his findings. [Translator note: The istikhārah in this case was not with regard to the judgment itself, since istikhārah is not a valid basis for such a judgment, but rather for the judge’s confidence in his own diligence.]

Did the Prophet Muhammad and the Imams also seek istikhārahs?

Istikhārah is only meant to remove one’s doubt and indecision in a situation. The Prophet and the Imams had access to the wellspring of revelation, and they had access to the unseen (ghayb). They had no need for an istikhārah. They did, however, encourage their followers to seek it; we have numerous reports that the Imams would teach their followers when and how to do istikhārahs, through the Qurʾan, a tasbīḥ, or by other means. But we don’t have any evidence that the Imams would seek an istikhārah for themselves.

Some Christians, particular within the Orthodox churches, will use the Bible to seek an istikhārah. But why do Sunnis not utilize the Qurʾan in this way?

Sunnis have yet to fully benefit from the Qurʾan. They have not benefited fully from the Prophet himself. The Prophet had so many elite companions, but they source so many of their laws and sharʿī rulings in the words of Abu Ḥurayrah, who despite having only spent approximately a year and a half with the Prophet, narrated around 30,000 aḥādīth directly from him. It is even narrated of the second caliph that he severely castigated Abu Ḥurayrah for his extensive fabrication of hadith.

Yet nowadays, many Sunnis, both within Iran and abroad, have sought istikhārahs. A little while ago, a delegation of scholars from the region of Sistan visited and requested a number of them. Even some Christian priests from Tehran have requested istikhārahs.

Is there a preferred time for seeking an istikhārah?

Some say that one such preferred time is Friday afternoon after the midday prayers, among other reported times throughout the week. However, these types of reports seem to not be supported by any religious evidence. The correct view is that God is always listening; His door is always open. My own teacher, ʿAllāmah Ṭabāṭabāʾī, would tell me that he does not accept there to be a preferred time for istikhārahs, and neither do I.

What is the correct intention for seeking an istikhārah?

The person seeking an istikhārah, in his heart and mind, must be in a state of indecision. This is a sufficient prerequisite. He doesn’t need to explicitly state his intent.

What things should a person refrain from seeking an istikhārah for?

If we have consulted others, have not found any definitive intellectual or legislative decree, and are still truly confused about how to deal with a situation, we can seek an istikhārah.

Some Qurʾans indicate the response of the istikhārah, that is, a particular page is labelled as “good,” another “bad,” and another “in-between.” Why are these Qurʾans not used for seeking istikhārahs as frequently anymore?

The istikhārah is not like the other Islamic sciences, like fiqh and usul [al-fiqh], nor like medicine and philosophy; it is not a purely intellectual endeavor. The istikhārah is at its core a matter of spiritual emanation; that is, it is a spiritual connection to the unseen. When such a spiritual connection must be established, universal or automatic answers are void, as are definitive yes’s or no’s indicated at the top of a Qurʾanic page. First, all Qurʾanic verses are fundamentally good. Second, each situation has a particular emanation that is relevant to the verse that appears, a particular relationship that the verse may not have with other events. Some of the proof-texts for the istikhārah from our Imams state the following: ما وقع في قلبه, meaning that we must be attentive to what occurs to our heart. And such occurences are of course not uniform.

So do you consider it incorrect to use such Qurʾans?

Yes.

How can lay people conduct an istikhārah themselves? Can they conduct an istikhārah through the internet or telephone?

The command (by the Imams) to conduct an istikhārah is general, and applies to all. However, the only conclusive and determinative istikhārahs are those conducted by a person who has received an inner permission, whether in a dream or while awake. Even a very knowledgeable scholar may not have been ordained with such a permission. In fact, it is said that Shaykh ʿAbd al-Karīm Hāʾirī would not conduct istikhārahs through the Qurʾan, because he would say, “I don’t know nor understand istikhārahs conducted through the Qurʾan. For example, what should I think of a verse that states ‘[Prophet] Musa (ʿa) said…?’ Is it a positive or a negative sign?” He would, however, conduct istikhārahs for himself and others via the tasbīḥ. The istikhārah is really an example of that spiritual emanation, and requires one to have an inner connection and permission.

So are you saying that one should not conduct istikhārahs by internet or phone?

No. As I mentioned earlier, the istikhārah is a spiritual state that is rooted in one’s deeper connection with the unseen. We cannot expect just anyone to have such a connection.

Can ordinary people conduct istikhārahs through translated Qurʾans?

No. Nor can one even conduct an istikhārah via Arabic Qurʾans. Nor is it possible for just anyone to conduct. It really requires that spiritual connection with the unseen.

Is it required for a person to act according to the results of an istikhārah?

It is not mandatory; however it is abhorrent to go against the results. The person has sought to consult God; he should not then oppose His advice. In this regard, the istikhārah is akin to dream interpretation, for not anyone can interpret dreams correctly, nor does it require a certain level of scholarship. There was, in fact, an illiterate woman in Najaf who could interpret dreams. A scholar once asked her how she acquired this ability. She responded, “I was very poor and sought the intercession of Haḍrat ʿAbbās. I saw a dream where they told me to hold a tasbīḥ, and that they will tell me what to say in response to people’s dreams.” She used to say that someone would just whisper in her ear. Therefore, it really has no connection to knowledge or scholarship. It is really a connection to the unseen.

Is it correct for someone to seek multiple istikhārahs with a single intention?

It is not good to repeatedly seek (for the same decision). The first istikhārah is really the criteria (for decision-making).

Then why do so many people do this sort of repetitive istikhārahs?

They are mistaken. If I find out that a person has already sought an istikhārah for a single intention and issue, I will not conduct the istikhārah.

 Can you describe how you conduct istikhārahs?

It cannot really be explained. It is one form of connecting with God.

Is there a specific method of teaching or conducting istikhārahs among religious scholars?

Our narrations state various methods for conducting the istikhārah, some of which are mentioned in the Mafātīḥ [al-Jinān]. However, this is all just on the outer aspect of the matter. What is important is that inner spiritual connection, which a person may be inspired with in ways that differ from those mentioned in the texts. God can inspire a person in many different ways; He states in the Qurʾan that even the honeybee receives some form of revelation.

Is the istikhārah related to the science of Qurʾanic tafsīr?

To an extent, it is. Tafsīr functions as a necessary introduction to istikhārah; however the istikhārah is not merely a form of tafsīr. A single verse may result in one istikhārah and have a particular interpretation, which may be different from the interpretation of that same verse in another istikhārah. Because of how quickly the istikhārah takes place, some have said about me that I don’t even look at the words of the Qurʾan.

What is the difference between fortune-telling and an istikhārah?

Fortune-telling is really an attempt to prophesy the future. It does not help a person determine what he should do. An istikhārah, however, helps a person decide how to act. It is for a person who does not know which decision to make. In this respect, an istikhārah is like a doctor’s prescription. It is not good to use the Qurʾan to tell one’s fortune. We actually have narrations that proscribe such uses of the Qurʾan.

Do you also seek istikhārahs for your own decisions?

Yes, of course. Very often. For example, I conducted one this morning. I conduct istikhārahs for certain meetings.

Did you conduct an istikhārah for this interview?

I may have conducted an istikhārah for today’s interview.

The Qurʾanic Biography of Imam Husayn: A Translation of Sayyid al-ʿUlama’s “Husayn (ʿa) and the Qurʾan”

By
Sayyid Ali Naqi Naqvi
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Sayyid ʿAlī Naqī Naqvī, popularly known as Sayyid al-ʿUlama, was widely considered to be the most prolific and influential mujtahid in the Indian subcontinent of the twentieth century. Originally from Lucknow, India, he hailed from a renowned family of scholars, called Khāndān-e Ijtihād of the Shiʿi Awadh state. He studied in Najaf for many years under the most prominent marājīʿ of his time, including Mirzā Muḥammad Ḥusayn al-Nāʾīnī, Ḍiyāʾ al-Dīn al-ʿIrāqī, and Abu al-Ḥasan al-Isfahānī. He wrote prolifically and spoke widely on a number of key and pressing issues facing the Shiʿi community of the Indian subcontinent. He was also affiliated for many years with Aligarh University as a Reader and as the Dean of Shiʿi Theology.

In this short treatise, Sayyid al-ʿUlamāʾ gives a Qurʾanic biography of the Lord of Martyrs, Imam Ḥusayn (ʿa), and sheds light on the causes of the event of Karbala. In this brief but profound text, he provides an exegesis of the life of Imam Ḥusayn (ʿa) and his heroic martyrdom through particular verses that highlight the most pivotal aspects of the Imam’s life. Meant for a wider audience, the text strips down a lengthy discussion to its fundamentals so as to provide us a striking lesson: that the Imam is the Qurʾan embodied, a claim eminently provable by the following Qurʾanic verses themselves.

The treatise is translated by Dr. Syed Rizwan Zamir, associate professor of religion in Davidson College in Davidson, North Carolina. Dr. Zamir’s Ph.D. dissertation was on the religio-intellectual thought of Sayyid ʿAlī Naqvī and his profound influence on the religious and social landscape of the Shiʿi community in South Asia. The Qurʾanic translations are loosely based on Arberry’s translation of the Qurʾan. 

 

In the name of Allah, the most Merciful, the All-Compassionate.

 

SECTION I: A Synopsis of the Martyr of Karbalāʾ’s life as Given in the Qurʾan

The Imam's (ʿa) family:
إِنَّمَا يُرِيدُ اللَّـهُ لِيُذْهِبَ عَنكُمُ الرِّجْسَ أَهْلَ الْبَيْتِ وَيُطَهِّرَكُمْ تَطْهِيرًا
O People of the House, God only desires to put away from you all abomination and to cleanse you thoroughly.
Sūrat al-Aḥzāb (33):33

 

His birth:
وَوَصَّيْنَا الْإِنسَانَ بِوَالِدَيْهِ إِحْسَانًا ۖ حَمَلَتْهُ أُمُّهُ كُرْهًا وَوَضَعَتْهُ كُرْهًا ۖ وَحَمْلُهُ وَفِصَالُهُ ثَلَاثُونَ شَهْرًا ۚ حَتَّىٰ إِذَا بَلَغَ أَشُدَّهُ وَبَلَغَ أَرْبَعِينَ سَنَةً قَالَ رَبِّ أَوْزِعْنِي أَنْ أَشْكُرَ نِعْمَتَكَ الَّتِي أَنْعَمْتَ عَلَيَّ وَعَلَىٰ وَالِدَيَّ وَأَنْ أَعْمَلَ صَالِحًا تَرْضَاهُ وَأَصْلِحْ لِي فِي ذُرِّيَّتِي ۖ إِنِّي تُبْتُ إِلَيْكَ وَإِنِّي مِنَ الْمُسْلِمِينَ
We have charged man to be kind to his parents; his mother bore him painfully, and painfully she gave birth to him; his bearing and his weaning are thirty months. Until, when he is fully grown, and reaches forty years, he says, “O my Lord, grant me that I may be thankful for Thy blessing that Thou hast blessed me and my father and mother, and that I may do righteousness well-pleasing to Thee; and make me righteous also in my offspring. Behold, I repent to Thee, and am among those who surrender.”
Sūrat al-Aḥqāf (46):15

 

His ultimate objective:
لَا شَرِيكَ لَهُ ۖ وَبِذَٰلِكَ أُمِرْتُ وَأَنَا أَوَّلُ الْمُسْلِمِينَ

“No associate has He. Thus have I been commanded, and I am the first of those that surrender.”

Sūrat al-Anʿām (6):163

 

His journey from Medina:
فَخَرَجَ مِنْهَا خَائِفًا يَتَرَقَّبُ ۖ قَالَ رَبِّ نَجِّنِي مِنَ الْقَوْمِ الظَّالِمِينَ
So he departed therefrom, fearful and vigilant; he said, “My Lord, deliver me from the evil-doing people.”
Sūrat al-Qaṣaṣ (28):21

 

A minority facing a majority:

فَلَمَّا فَصَلَ طَالُوتُ بِالْجُنُودِ قَالَ إِنَّ اللَّـهَ مُبْتَلِيكُم بِنَهَرٍ فَمَن شَرِبَ مِنْهُ فَلَيْسَ مِنِّي وَمَن لَّمْ يَطْعَمْهُ فَإِنَّهُ مِنِّي إِلَّا مَنِ اغْتَرَفَ غُرْفَةً بِيَدِهِ ۚ فَشَرِبُوا مِنْهُ إِلَّا قَلِيلًا مِّنْهُمْ ۚ فَلَمَّا جَاوَزَهُ هُوَ وَالَّذِينَ آمَنُوا مَعَهُ قَالُوا لَا طَاقَةَ لَنَا الْيَوْمَ بِجَالُوتَ وَجُنُودِهِ ۚ قَالَ الَّذِينَ يَظُنُّونَ أَنَّهُم مُّلَاقُو اللَّـهِ كَم مِّن فِئَةٍ قَلِيلَةٍ غَلَبَتْ فِئَةً كَثِيرَةً بِإِذْنِ اللَّـهِ ۗ وَاللَّـهُ مَعَ الصَّابِرِينَ

And when Saul went forth with the hosts he said, “God will try you with a river; whoever drinks of it is not of me, and whoever tastes it not, he is of me, except him who scoops up with his hand.” But they drank of it, except a few of them; and when he crossed it along with those who believed with him, they said, “We have no power today against Goliath and his hosts.” Said those who reckoned they should meet God, “How often a little company has overcome a numerous company, by God’s leave! And God is with the patient.”

Sūrat al-Baqarah (2):249

 

A loyal contingent and final farewells:
مِّنَ الْمُؤْمِنِينَ رِجَالٌ صَدَقُوا مَا عَاهَدُوا اللَّـهَ عَلَيْهِ ۖ فَمِنْهُم مَّن قَضَىٰ نَحْبَهُ وَمِنْهُم مَّن يَنتَظِرُ ۖ وَمَا بَدَّلُوا تَبْدِيلًا
Among the believers are men who were true to their covenant with God; some of them have fulfilled their vow by death, and some are still awaiting, and they have not changed in the least.
Sūrat al-Aḥzāb (33):23
[1]In this section, the original Urdu text isn’t clear, and seems to refer to the farewells between the various followers of Imam Husayn who comprise that loyal contingent. 
Final words of advice:
إِلَّا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا وَعَمِلُوا الصَّالِحَاتِ وَتَوَاصَوْا بِالْحَقِّ وَتَوَاصَوْا بِالصَّبْرِ
Save those who believe, and do righteous deeds, and counsel each other unto the truth, and counsel each other to be steadfast.
Sūrat al-ʿAṣr (103):3

 

The greatness of patience:
الَّذِينَ إِذَا أَصَابَتْهُم مُّصِيبَةٌ قَالُوا إِنَّا لِلَّـهِ وَإِنَّا إِلَيْهِ رَاجِعُونَ
Who, when they are visited by an affliction, say, “Surely we belong to God, and to Him we return…”

Sūrat al-Baqarah (2):156

 

His final end:
يَا أَيَّتُهَا النَّفْسُ الْمُطْمَئِنَّةُ ﴿٢٧﴾ ارْجِعِي إِلَىٰ رَبِّكِ رَاضِيَةً مَّرْضِيَّةً ﴿٢٨﴾ فَادْخُلِي فِي عِبَادِي ﴿٢٩﴾ وَادْخُلِي جَنَّتِي ﴿٣٠
(27) “O soul at peace, (28) return unto thy Lord, well-pleased, well-pleasing! (29) Enter thou among My servants! (30) Enter thou My Paradise!”
Sūrat al-Fajr (89):27-30

 

His eternal life:
الَّذِينَ يَقُولُونَ رَبَّنَا إِنَّنَا آمَنَّا فَاغْفِرْ لَنَا ذُنُوبَنَا وَقِنَا عَذَابَ النَّارِ
Who say, “Our Lord, we believe; forgive us our sins, and guard us against the torment of the Fire…”
Sūrat Āl ʿImrān (3):16

Section II: Causes and Reasons of Imam Husayn’s Heroic Acts as Given in God’s Words (i.e., the Qurʾan)

 

Abraham's (ʿa) prayer,
that there be true guardians of Islam from his progeny:
وَإِذْ يَرْفَعُ إِبْرَاهِيمُ الْقَوَاعِدَ مِنَ الْبَيْتِ وَإِسْمَاعِيلُ رَبَّنَا تَقَبَّلْ مِنَّا ۖ إِنَّكَ أَنتَ السَّمِيعُ الْعَلِيمُ ﴿١٢٧﴾ رَبَّنَا وَاجْعَلْنَا مُسْلِمَيْنِ لَكَ وَمِن ذُرِّيَّتِنَا أُمَّةً مُّسْلِمَةً لَّكَ وَأَرِنَا مَنَاسِكَنَا وَتُبْ عَلَيْنَا ۖ إِنَّكَ أَنتَ التَّوَّابُ الرَّحِيمُ ﴿١٢٨﴾
(127) And when Abraham, and Ishmael with him, raised up the foundations of the House: “Our Lord, accept this from us; Thou art the All-hearing, the All-knowing; (128) and, our Lord, make us submissive to Thee, and of our seed a nation submissive to Thee; and show us our holy rites, and turn towards us; surely Thou turnest, and art All-compassionate…”
Sūrat al-Baqarah (2):127-128

 

Abraham’s (ʿa) last will and testament to his children,
that they remain guardians of Islam:
وَوَصَّىٰ بِهَا إِبْرَاهِيمُ بَنِيهِ وَيَعْقُوبُ يَا بَنِيَّ إِنَّ اللَّـهَ اصْطَفَىٰ لَكُمُ الدِّينَ فَلَا تَمُوتُنَّ إِلَّا وَأَنتُم مُّسْلِمُونَ
And Abraham charged his sons with this and Jacob likewise: “My sons, God has chosen for you the religion; see that you die not save in surrender.”
Sūrat al-Baqarah (2):127-128

 

The greatest fulfilment of Abraham’s (ʿa) prayer,
is the chosen messenger, Muhammad (ṣ), his progeny, and his true followers:
إِنَّ أَوْلَى النَّاسِ بِإِبْرَاهِيمَ لَلَّذِينَ اتَّبَعُوهُ وَهَـٰذَا النَّبِيُّ وَالَّذِينَ آمَنُوا ۗ وَاللَّـهُ وَلِيُّ الْمُؤْمِنِينَ
Surely the people standing closest to Abraham are those who followed him, and this Prophet, and those who believe; and God is the Protector of the believers.
Sūrat Āl ʿImrān (3):68

 

After the Prophet of Islam,
it was certain that the larger ummah will deviate from the right path:
وَمَا مُحَمَّدٌ إِلَّا رَسُولٌ قَدْ خَلَتْ مِن قَبْلِهِ الرُّسُلُ ۚ أَفَإِن مَّاتَ أَوْ قُتِلَ انقَلَبْتُمْ عَلَىٰ أَعْقَابِكُمْ ۚ وَمَن يَنقَلِبْ عَلَىٰ عَقِبَيْهِ فَلَن يَضُرَّ اللَّـهَ شَيْئًا ۗ وَسَيَجْزِي اللَّـهُ الشَّاكِرِينَ
Muhammad is but a Messenger; Messengers have passed away before him. If he should die or is slain, will you turn back on your heels? If any man should turn back on his heels, he will not harm God in any way; and God will recompense the thankful.
Sūrat Āl ʿImrān (3):144

 

The Muslims, after gaining power,
did corruption on earth and broke the bonds of love and intimacy:     
فَهَلْ عَسَيْتُمْ إِن تَوَلَّيْتُمْ أَن تُفْسِدُوا فِي الْأَرْضِ وَتُقَطِّعُوا أَرْحَامَكُمْ
If you turned away, would you then perchance work corruption in the land, and break your bonds of kinship?
Sūrat Muḥammad (47):22

 

Special group to enjoin good.
It is necessary for there to exist a certain group that will exhort people toward goodness and—to the extent possible—forbid evils.
وَلْتَكُن مِّنكُمْ أُمَّةٌ يَدْعُونَ إِلَى الْخَيْرِ وَيَأْمُرُونَ بِالْمَعْرُوفِ وَيَنْهَوْنَ عَنِ الْمُنكَرِ ۚ وَأُولَـٰئِكَ هُمُ الْمُفْلِحُونَ
Let there be a people among you, calling to good, and bidding to honor, and forbidding dishonor; those are the successful.
Sūrat Āl ʿImrān (3):104

 

Strive to oppose evil.
It is such a group whose raison d'etre is precisely to keep striving to oppose these evils:
وَلِلَّـهِ مَا فِي السَّمَاوَاتِ وَمَا فِي الْأَرْضِ ۚ وَإِلَى اللَّـهِ تُرْجَعُ الْأُمُورُ
To God belongs all that is in the heavens and in the earth, and unto Him all matters are returned.
Sūrat Āl ʿImrān (3):109

 

This group should never obey those who deny God:
يَا أَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا إِن تُطِيعُوا الَّذِينَ كَفَرُوا يَرُدُّوكُمْ عَلَىٰ أَعْقَابِكُمْ فَتَنقَلِبُوا خَاسِرِينَ
O believers, if you obey the unbelievers they will turn you upon your heels, and you will turn back in a state of loss.
Sūrat Āl ʿImrān (3):149

 

One should stay firm on the straight path,
and one should not form bonds with oppressors:
وَلَا تَرْكَنُوا إِلَى الَّذِينَ ظَلَمُوا فَتَمَسَّكُمُ النَّارُ وَمَا لَكُم مِّن دُونِ اللَّـهِ مِنْ أَوْلِيَاءَ ثُمَّ لَا تُنصَرُونَ
And rely not on the evildoers, so that the Fire touches you—you have no protectors apart from God—and then you will not be helped.
Sūrat Hūd (11):113

 

They are appointed to always obey God,
the Most Exalted, and no one else:
وَمَا أُمِرُوا إِلَّا لِيَعْبُدُوا اللَّـهَ مُخْلِصِينَ لَهُ الدِّينَ حُنَفَاءَ وَيُقِيمُوا الصَّلَاةَ وَيُؤْتُوا الزَّكَاةَ ۚ وَذَٰلِكَ دِينُ الْقَيِّمَةِ
They were commanded only to serve God, devoting themselves to Him, men of pure faith, and to perform the prayer, and pay the alms—that is the religion of the True.
Sūrat al-Bayyinah (98):5

 

Mandatory Migration.
If it is not possible to perform one’s duties, one has to abandon one’s homeland:
إِنَّ الَّذِينَ تَوَفَّاهُمُ الْمَلَائِكَةُ ظَالِمِي أَنفُسِهِمْ قَالُوا فِيمَ كُنتُمْ ۖ قَالُوا كُنَّا مُسْتَضْعَفِينَ فِي الْأَرْضِ ۚ قَالُوا أَلَمْ تَكُنْ أَرْضُ اللَّـهِ وَاسِعَةً فَتُهَاجِرُوا فِيهَا ۚ فَأُولَـٰئِكَ مَأْوَاهُمْ جَهَنَّمُ ۖ وَسَاءَتْ مَصِيرًا
And those the angels take, while still they are wronging themselves—the angels will say, “In what circumstances were you?” They will say, “We were abased in the earth.” The angels will say, “But was not God’s earth wide, so that you might have emigrated in it?” Such men, their refuge shall be Hell—an evil abode!
Sūrat al-Nisāʾ (4):97

 

One should refuse obedience to anyone other than God,
and in consequence one should not be anxious about loss of home or even death:
كُلُّ نَفْسٍ ذَائِقَةُ الْمَوْتِ ۖ ثُمَّ إِلَيْنَا تُرْجَعُونَ
Every soul shall taste of death; then unto Us you shall be returned.
Sūrat al-ʿAnkabūt (29):57

 

If necessary, one should stand up and fight:
أُذِنَ لِلَّذِينَ يُقَاتَلُونَ بِأَنَّهُمْ ظُلِمُوا ۚ وَإِنَّ اللَّـهَ عَلَىٰ نَصْرِهِمْ لَقَدِيرٌ ﴿٣٩﴾ الَّذِينَ أُخْرِجُوا مِن دِيَارِهِم بِغَيْرِ حَقٍّ إِلَّا أَن يَقُولُوا رَبُّنَا اللَّـهُ ۗ وَلَوْلَا دَفْعُ اللَّـهِ النَّاسَ بَعْضَهُم بِبَعْضٍ لَّهُدِّمَتْ صَوَامِعُ وَبِيَعٌ وَصَلَوَاتٌ وَمَسَاجِدُ يُذْكَرُ فِيهَا اسْمُ اللَّـهِ كَثِيرًا ۗ وَلَيَنصُرَنَّ اللَّـهُ مَن يَنصُرُهُ ۗ إِنَّ اللَّـهَ لَقَوِيٌّ عَزِيزٌ ﴿٤٠﴾ الَّذِينَ إِن مَّكَّنَّاهُمْ فِي الْأَرْضِ أَقَامُوا الصَّلَاةَ وَآتَوُا الزَّكَاةَ وَأَمَرُوا بِالْمَعْرُوفِ وَنَهَوْا عَنِ الْمُنكَرِ ۗ وَلِلَّـهِ عَاقِبَةُ الْأُمُورِ ﴿٤١﴾
(39) Permission is given to those who fight because they were wronged—surely God is able to help them – (40) who were expelled from their homes without cause, except that they say “Our Lord is God.” Had God not driven back the people, some by the means of others, there would have been destroyed cloisters and churches, oratories and mosques, wherein God’s Name is much mentioned. Assuredly God will help him who helps Him—surely God is All-strong, All-mighty (41) who, if We establish them in the land, perform the prayer, and pay the alms, and bid to honor, and forbid dishonor; and unto God belongs the issue of all affairs.
Sūrat al-Ḥajj (22):39-41

 

Even if killed, God’s Will is more precious than the blessings of this world:
يَا أَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا لَا تَكُونُوا كَالَّذِينَ كَفَرُوا وَقَالُوا لِإِخْوَانِهِمْ إِذَا ضَرَبُوا فِي الْأَرْضِ أَوْ كَانُوا غُزًّى لَّوْ كَانُوا عِندَنَا مَا مَاتُوا وَمَا قُتِلُوا لِيَجْعَلَ اللَّـهُ ذَٰلِكَ حَسْرَةً فِي قُلُوبِهِمْ ۗ وَاللَّـهُ يُحْيِي وَيُمِيتُ ۗ وَاللَّـهُ بِمَا تَعْمَلُونَ بَصِيرٌ
O believers, be not as the unbelievers who say to their brothers, when they journey in the land, or are upon expeditions, “If they had been with us, they would not have died or been slain”—that God may make that an anguish in their hearts. For God gives life, and He makes to die; and God sees the things that you do.
Sūrat Āl ʿImrān (3):156

 

In the end, victory is for the folks of God:
كَتَبَ اللَّـهُ لَأَغْلِبَنَّ أَنَا وَرُسُلِي ۚ إِنَّ اللَّـهَ قَوِيٌّ عَزِيزٌ
God has written, “I shall assuredly be victorious, I and My Messengers.” Surely God is All-strong, All-mighty.
Sūrat al-Mujādalah (58):21

Notes   [ + ]

1. ⇧ In this section, the original Urdu text isn’t clear, and seems to refer to the farewells between the various followers of Imam Husayn who comprise that loyal contingent.

Tadwīn al-Ḥadīth: The Prohibition of Hadith & the Prophetic Legacy

By
Sayyid Ahmad al-Madadi
-

The following is the second installment of Sayyid Aḥmad al-Madadī’s lecture series regarding the circulation of hadith. The first article dealt with explaining the difference between sunnah and hadith and with the origin of Arabic writing. This section discusses the disagreement between Sunni scholarship on the original permissibility of writing other than the Qurʾan and the evidence of the various perspectives. Finally, Sayyid al-Madadī briefly explains the Shiʿi rejection of a prohibition of writing ever coming from the Prophet (ṣ).

The history of hadith circulation cannot be studied without surveying the stances of the majority of Muslim scholars and historians. Sunni researchers have been divided on whether or not writing down hadith was even permissible. This is due to a variety of conflicting reports floating around the intellectual circles of the early Muslims. Scholars were forced to critically engage with this conflicting material in order to extract what they thought was the authentic teaching of the Prophet (ṣ) with regards to his sunnah.

The prevailing opinion in the Sunni world has been that the Prophet (ṣ) prohibited the recording of his hadith and that this prohibition continued after him for some time. Sunni scholars, however, differ regarding the degree of this prohibition. Indeed, this dispute can be traced back to the time of the Companions (ṣaḥābah) and Successors (tābiʿūn). We see that although the view of the majority of scholars in the early period was that writing prophetic hadith was forbidden, there were early proponents of recording and circulating hadith. For example, some early Muslims believed it was permissible to write hadith so that it could be memorized, but one must erase the writing thereafter.

Many aspects of this issue—for example, whether hadith writing is permissible, the origins of a possible prohibition, the reasons—are all subjects of debate among scholars and researchers to this very day. For example, Dr. Ṣubḥī Ṣāliḥ argues that the writing of hadith was, in fact, not prohibited, and that the circulation of hadith was permitted by the Prophet (ṣ) himself—an opinion that stands notably in opposition to the majority. Another researcher, Muḥammad Rashīd Riḍā, supports the view that the writing and circulation of hadith was prohibited.

The most important piece of evidence used in this regard is the hadith of Abū Saʿīd al-Khudrī, as narrated in Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim:

لَا تَكْتُبُوا عَنِّي شَيْئًا إِلَّا الْقُرْآنَ ، فَمَنْ كَتَبَ عَنِّي شَيْئًا غَيْرَ الْقُرْآنِ ، فَلْيَمْحُهُ.

“Do not record anything from me except the Qurʾan. Whoever has recorded anything from me other than the Qurʾan, let him efface it.”

Although other reports are also used as evidence for this prohibition, none are as important as this hadith because of its supposed reliability—after all, it is cited in Muslim’s Ṣaḥīḥ. Note that al-Bukhārī did not include this report in his Ṣaḥīḥ, because according to him—and others—this report is not marfūʿ. Rather, it is mawqūf.[1]In Sunni hadith-chain evaluation (ʿilm al-dirāyah), a report that is traced back to the Prophet (ṣ) is termed marfūʿ while a report that is traced back to a Companion is termed mawqūf. The term marfūʿ in Shiʿi hadith literature is used to denote an incomplete chain of transmission where a later narrator quotes a source—usually an Imam—with a clear generational gap between them. What they mean is that this report gives us the words and opinion of Abū Saʿīd himself, and not the Prophet (ṣ).

Although we can take issue with the provenance of this narration, if, for the sake of argument, we assume they are the words of the Prophet (ṣ), there still remains a reasonable alternative explanation for this hadith. The report appears to allude to the issue of mixing up the text of the Qurʾan with its commentary and interpretation. In that case, this hadith would pertain to the early days of the prophetic mission, when the Qurʾan was not as well-known or widely memorized as it was near the end of the Prophet’s (ṣ) life. This injunction would have been to prevent the mixing of the actual Qurʾanic verse with what the Prophet (ṣ) may have stated along with the verse, even though that interpretation (taʾwīl)—sourced in Allah’s Messenger (ṣ)—was itself a type of revelation (waḥy). The Companions would also record the verses of the Qurʾan along with their historical circumstances of revelation (asbāb al-nuzūl), exegesis (tafsīr), etc. You can see these types of narrations in tafsīr literature. For example, after “the straight path,” you may see “the path of ʿAlī.” This is not some sort of interpolation of the text; rather the Imam (ʿa) is here explaining an additional meaning—whether esoteric or exoteric—along with the formal Qurʾanic verse.

The early Muslims were very particular about not mixing any other material with the text of the Qurʾan. The Kufic script did not even have grammatical declension (iʿrāb), or dots (niqāt, sing. nuqtah). Per tradition,[2]Muslim tradition states that the foundations of the Arabic language were established by Abū al-Aswad al-Duʾalī on the instruction of Imam ʿAlī (ʿa). The sunni historian al-Dhahabī mentions the following: Abū ʿUbaydah said: Abū al-Aswad learned the foundations of Arabic language from ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib. Abū al-Aswad heard someone incorrectly recite the third verse of Sūrat al-Tawbah: “that Allah has forsaken the polytheists and so has His Messenger” as “…and (forsaken) His messenger.” And Abū al-Aswad said, “I did not think that the situation of society had come to this.” So Abū al-Aswad said to Ziyād, the governor, “Procure for me an intelligent scribe,” and one was provided. Abū al-Aswad said to his scribe, “When you see that I have vowelized a letter with an ‘a’ sound, write a dot above that letter, a letter with an ‘u’ sound, write a dot in front of that letter, a letter with an ‘i’ sound, write a dot under that letter. When I follow up any of these vowels with a ghunnah, then instead of one dot put two dots.” These were the dots of Abū al-Aswad al-Duʾalī (Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad al-Dhahabī, Siyar Aʿlām al-Nubalāʾ, vol. 4, “Min man adraka zamān al-nubuwwah” (Beirut: Muʾassassah al-Risālah, 1982), p. 83) Abū Aswad al-Duʾalī[3]His full name was Ẓālim b. ʿAmr, a successor (tābiʿī) whose life spanned the Era of Ignorance and Islam (termed in Sunni biographical works as a mukhaḍram), and who died at the age of eighty-five in the sixty-ninth year after the hijrah. He accepted Islam during the life of the Prophet (ṣ), and fought with Amīr al-Muʾminīn Imam ʿAlī in the Battle of the Camel (Jamal). (al-Dhahabī, Siyar Aʿlām al-Nubalāʾ, vol. 4, 82.) added them later, and the Muslims maintained that these dots cannot be written in the same script of the Qurʾan. Thus, they would, for example, write the text of the Qurʾan in black ink, but mark the vowels in red. This even led to a legal question: Do these vowels and other markings have the same ruling as the Qurʾan itself, namely that they are impermissible to touch outside a state of ritual purity (ṭahārah)?

This seems to be the context for the hadith of Abū Saʿīd; it is as if the Prophet (ṣ) had said, “If you want to write the Qurʾan, then do not add its explanation (taʾwīl).” This is a reasonable understanding of the hadith, and if true, the hadith does not proscribe the writing of the sunnah or hadith; rather, it is only calling to preserve the Qurʾan properly.

If we look at the large volumes of hadith literature comprising thousands of narrations, all compiled in the centuries following the prophetic era, none of the Muslims confused these with, or mistook them for the Qurʾan. Thus, it is not tenable that the Prophet (ṣ) forbade writing all else to protect the Qurʾan from interpolation.

Thus, it is not tenable that the Prophet (ṣ) forbade writing all else to protect the Qurʾan from interpolation.

Other evidence supports this view, as well.

Historians and biographers of the Prophet unanimously agree that following the hijrah, when the Prophet (ṣ) entered Medina, he ordered that a legal agreement be written between the Muslims and the Jews in which approximately fifty-two rules were codified. In the famous incident known as the “Calamity of Thursday” (raziyyat al-khamīs), there is also a consensus that the Prophet (ṣ) requested pen and paper in order to write something for the guidance of Muslims:

ائتوني بالكتف والدواة—أو اللوح والدواة—أكتب لكم كتاباً لن تضلوا بعده أبداً

Bring me a shoulder blade and ink-pot (or a tablet and ink-pot) so that I may write for you a document, following which you will never go astray.

Other such evidence can also be marshaled. The Prophet (ṣ) wrote to various individuals, such as certain poets and delegations. After the Treaty of Hudaybiyyah and the conquest of Mecca, delegations would come to meet the Prophet (ṣ). After they returned to their homes, he would write to them. The contents of some of these letters survive today in manuscript form, often called makātīb al-Rasūl.

After the Prophet (ṣ), Imam ʿAlī (ʿa) categorically allowed writing prophetic hadith. Although Sunni evidence for this conclusion is not as explicit as that of the Shīʿah, it is generally accepted that he and Imam Ḥasan (ʿa) allowed writing sunan and hadith. Despite this, Maḥmūd Abu Riyah counts Imam ʿAlī among those companions who forbade circulation, and al-Ṭabarī included ʿUmar among those who permitted it. It is without doubt that Imam ʿAlī permitted and ʿUmar forbade it; Maḥmūd Abu Riyah and al-Tabarī erred in their attributions. If such an obvious error can be made regarding the heads of each side of this conflict, we can only imagine what other errors exist in the opinions attributed to lesser figures.

After the conquest of Mecca, the Prophet (ṣ) stood amongst the people and delivered a sermon, after which a man by the name Abū Shāh arose and said:

اكْتُبُوا لِي يَا رَسُولَ اللَّهِ ، فَقَالَ رَسُولُ اللَّهِ: اكْتُبُوا لِأَبِي شَاهٍ ، قَالَ الْوَلِيدُ : فَقُلْتُ لِلْأَوْزَاعِيِّ : مَا قَوْلُهُ : اكْتُبُوا لِي يَا رَسُولَ اللَّهِ ؟ قَالَ: هَذِهِ الْخُطْبَةَ الَّتِي سَمِعَهَا مِنْ رَسُولِ اللَّهِ

“Write for me, oh Messenger of God.” The Prophet (ṣ) then said, “Write for Abū Shāh.” Walīd said: “I asked al-Awzāʿī what he meant by ‘Write for me, Messenger of God?’” He said, “He meant the sermon that he heard from the Prophet (ṣ).”

In a report, Abū Hurayrah states:

ما من أصحاب النبي صلى الله عليه وسلم أحد أكثر حديثا عنه مني إلا ما كان من عبد الله بن عمرو فإنه كان يكتب ولا أكتب

“None of the Prophet’s (ṣ) companions exceed me in narrating his (the Prophet’s) hadith except ʿAbdullāh b. ʿAmr, for he would write while I would not.”

It was well known that ʿAbdullāh b. ʿAmr b. al-ʿĀṣ wrote down hadith. ʿAbdullāh himself seems to have had doubts whether writing the hadith of the Prophet was permissible. Sunnis narrate from ʿAbdullāh:

قُلْتُ: يَا رَسُولَ اللَّهِ إِنَّا لَنَسْمَعُ مِنْكَ أَشْيَاءَ نُحِبُّ أَنْ نَحْفَظَهَا أَوَنَكْتُبُهَا ؟ قَالَ: نَعَمْ. فَقُلْتُ: مَا يَكُونُ فِي الْغَضَبِ وَالرِّضَا؟ فَقَالَ: نَعَمْ فَإِنِّي لا أَقُولُ فِي الْغَضَبِ وَالرِّضَا إِلا حَقًّا.

I said, “Messenger of God, we hear from you many things, hoping to preserve them. Shall we write them?” The Prophet (ṣ), “Yes.” Then I said, “[Write even] what [you say] in anger and in joy?” He said, “Yes, for I do not say in anger or joy anything but truth.”

There is a wealth of evidence that the Prophet gave explicit permission to write hadith, some reports of which are transmitted by reliable means. However, these reports are not in the two Ṣaḥīḥ texts of al-Bukhārī and Muslim. This variation and apparent contradiction of evidence is what has led Sunni researchers to disagree over the question of permissibility of writing prophetic precedent. That is, their dispute relates to which set of narrations should be preferred and how the conflicting reports are to be reconciled. One group, mostly consisting of hadith scholars (muḥaddithūn), believes the Prophet (ṣ) allowed the writing of hadith as a dispensation. However, all Sunni scholars concede, as a matter of consensus, that the recording of hadith was permissible after the second generation (tābiʿ al-tābiʿīn), about 120 A.H. Some of their scholars explained that it became permissible as a necessity. The strongest evidence of this shift in view is the large corpus of hadith inherited from those generations until today. It became a sort of de facto consensus (ijmāʿ); everyone was writing hadith seeing as it was necessary to preserve the sunnah.

From the Shiʿi point of view, it is difficult to even imagine the Prophet (ṣ) prohibiting the writing of his sunnah or hadith. We have Qurʾanic verses (āyāt) and historical evidence that dismiss this as a possibility. Indeed, to forbid writing hadith would be tantamount to a call for the destruction of knowledge. It is inconceivable for the intricacies of religion to remain without writing, and against the practice of reasonable people (al-sīrah al-ʿuqalāʾiyyah).[4]The sīrah ʿuqalāʾiyyah is an indicator of legal evidence as established in the science of juristic principles (ʿilm uṣūl al-fiqh) whereby the existence of a standing practice of reasonable people—whether they are Muslim or not—is known to be concurrent with the infallible while there is no evidence or sufficient evidence of the infallible rejecting that sīrah establishes the affirmation of that sīrah by the infallible. Sayyid al-Madadī may be mentioning this principle here because after establishing the recording of teachings in writing as the practice of reasonable people, sparse and conflicting evidence is insufficient to affirm the infallible’s rejection. With the lack of rejection established, affirmation of the sīrah is proven. The Islamic tradition provides definitive evidence to the centrality of the prophetic legacy. The Book of Allah tells us that we find in the Prophet a beautiful example, and that whatever he gives to us we are to take. It is unconscionable for the man whose character is the Qurʾan personified not to allow the recording of his sunnah. Such a prohibition would be especially egregious when we consider that: 1) among the first pieces of revelation, he recited how Allah taught with the pen; 2) upon entering Medina after the hijrah, he wrote a canon of law between the Muslims and the Jews; 3) in his final days, he asked for pen and paper to guide the Muslims after his death.

The Prophet (ṣ) was establishing a religion for all. If he wanted that path to spread and for its teachings to be available to all, it had to be been written.

The Prophet (ṣ) was establishing a religion for all. If he wanted that path to spread and for its teachings to be available to all, it had to be been written.

It is not reasonable to obligate emulating the sunnah, then prevent it from being written. This would mean that only the residents of Medina would have access to it, and that it would remain in their memory alone. Thus, the entire Muslim polity (ummah) would have to leave it all in the hands of a small group and their memories, hence negating the Prophet’s (ṣ) own objectives.

Now, it can be argued that the prophetic precedents and hadith were not written during his lifetime. That is, however, an entirely different issue. The idea that the Prophet (ṣ) prohibited his ummah from writing them at all is categorically untenable. As discussed previously, he may have prohibited the writing of explanations of revelation together with the Qurʾan to prevent confusion between the Qurʾan proper and its exegesis. There was, without a doubt, no confusion among the Muslims about which texts were Qurʾanic and which are of the prophetic hadith. The words of Allah have a special flavor and eloquence to them, a quality that cannot be matched by human speech. There is an exceptional report with strong chains of transmission, found in both Shiʿi and Sunni sources, of an alleged verse of “stoning.” The phrasing of the purported verse, however, is not at all Qurʾanic. No matter the situation, the Qurʾan is always distinct from any other text. There was also never a discussion of writing Qurʾan and sunnah together, anyway. It has always been possible to easily record them separately.

In summary, the Sunni researchers have been divided on the issue of writing of hadith and remain divided up to this day, even if everyone has acquiesced to the pragmatic necessity of the matter. The school of Ahl al-Bayt (ʿa) unanimously holds that no such prohibition came from the Prophet (ṣ), and in fact such a proscription would be inconceivable from the person of the Messenger as presented in the Qurʾan and the sunnah transmitted by the Imams of his Household (ʿa).

Sayyid Aḥmad al-Madadī is a highly respected jurist and teacher in the holy city of Qumm. His teachers include the late Sayyid Abū l-Qāsim al-Khūʾī, and the current marjiʿ, Sayyid ʿAlī al-Sīstānī. He teaches baḥth al-khārij courses in fiqh and uṣūl al-fiqh, and has pioneered a new approach to hadith through bibliographical literature, called al-baḥth al-fihristī.

This transcript was prepared and translated by Haziq Sheikh of the Ahl al-Bayt Islamic Seminary.

Notes   [ + ]

1. ⇧ In Sunni hadith-chain evaluation (ʿilm al-dirāyah), a report that is traced back to the Prophet (ṣ) is termed marfūʿ while a report that is traced back to a Companion is termed mawqūf. The term marfūʿ in Shiʿi hadith literature is used to denote an incomplete chain of transmission where a later narrator quotes a source—usually an Imam—with a clear generational gap between them.
2. ⇧ Muslim tradition states that the foundations of the Arabic language were established by Abū al-Aswad al-Duʾalī on the instruction of Imam ʿAlī (ʿa). The sunni historian al-Dhahabī mentions the following: Abū ʿUbaydah said: Abū al-Aswad learned the foundations of Arabic language from ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib. Abū al-Aswad heard someone incorrectly recite the third verse of Sūrat al-Tawbah: “that Allah has forsaken the polytheists and so has His Messenger” as “…and (forsaken) His messenger.” And Abū al-Aswad said, “I did not think that the situation of society had come to this.” So Abū al-Aswad said to Ziyād, the governor, “Procure for me an intelligent scribe,” and one was provided. Abū al-Aswad said to his scribe, “When you see that I have vowelized a letter with an ‘a’ sound, write a dot above that letter, a letter with an ‘u’ sound, write a dot in front of that letter, a letter with an ‘i’ sound, write a dot under that letter. When I follow up any of these vowels with a ghunnah, then instead of one dot put two dots.” These were the dots of Abū al-Aswad al-Duʾalī (Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad al-Dhahabī, Siyar Aʿlām al-Nubalāʾ, vol. 4, “Min man adraka zamān al-nubuwwah” (Beirut: Muʾassassah al-Risālah, 1982), p. 83)
3. ⇧ His full name was Ẓālim b. ʿAmr, a successor (tābiʿī) whose life spanned the Era of Ignorance and Islam (termed in Sunni biographical works as a mukhaḍram), and who died at the age of eighty-five in the sixty-ninth year after the hijrah. He accepted Islam during the life of the Prophet (ṣ), and fought with Amīr al-Muʾminīn Imam ʿAlī in the Battle of the Camel (Jamal). (al-Dhahabī, Siyar Aʿlām al-Nubalāʾ, vol. 4, 82.)
4. ⇧ The sīrah ʿuqalāʾiyyah is an indicator of legal evidence as established in the science of juristic principles (ʿilm uṣūl al-fiqh) whereby the existence of a standing practice of reasonable people—whether they are Muslim or not—is known to be concurrent with the infallible while there is no evidence or sufficient evidence of the infallible rejecting that sīrah establishes the affirmation of that sīrah by the infallible. Sayyid al-Madadī may be mentioning this principle here because after establishing the recording of teachings in writing as the practice of reasonable people, sparse and conflicting evidence is insufficient to affirm the infallible’s rejection. With the lack of rejection established, affirmation of the sīrah is proven.
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