The Pulse of the Qur'an by Maulana Hamid uddin Farahi (1863-1930) narrated by Dr. Akram Nadwi

 Source Note: This is a direct English rendering of a YouTube clip of Dr. Akram Nadwi* on the Farahi School of Thought with comments on the life and work of Hamid Uddin Farahi Sahib (1863-1930). The content has been edited to be reproduced in article form.

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*[Dr. Mohammad Akram Nadwi is a distinguished Islamic scholar, researcher, author, and teacher of Indian origin, renowned for his expertise in Hadith, Islamic jurisprudence, Qurʾānic studies, and Arabic literature. He served as a Research Fellow at the Oxford Centre for Islamic Studies, University of Oxford, from 1991 to 2015.]

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Praise be to Allah, Lord of the worlds, and peace and blessings be upon His Messenger Muhammad, and upon all his family and companions. To proceed: I seek refuge in Allah from Satan, the accursed. In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.

 “This is a blessed Book which We have sent down to you, so that they may reflect deeply upon its verses.” Qurʾān (38:29)

 And Allah Almighty says: “And this is a blessed Book which We have sent down. So follow it and be mindful of Allah, so that you may be shown mercy.” Qurʾān (6:155)

 Respected scholars, dear intellectuals, and respected brothers, Assalamu Alaikum wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatuh.

 It is truly a matter of great honour and good fortune for me to speak before you in this gathering about Maulana Hamiduddin Farahi, may Allah have mercy upon him.

 Introduction of Maulana Farahi: 

The region of India to which I belong is, in reality, the region associated with Maulana Farahi. I belong to that very area. I am from Jaunpur District, and my village is situated on the border of Jaunpur; after that, the Agra region begins. The road that goes from our village leads towards Saraimir Khurd, where Maulana Farahi was. So, I have heard his name since childhood.

 Then, the madrasa where I studied Arabic was called Maulana Azad Educational Centre. I used to go there by bicycle, and many of its teachers were associated with the Farahi tradition. That is, they were graduates of the same madrasa and were students of the students of Maulana Farahi.

 Thus, throughout my education, I studied the works of Maulana Farahi. One of his very famous books is Asbāq al-Naḥw, concerning Arabic grammar. Then there is his book Tuḥfat al-Iʿrāb, also dealing with grammar. Similarly, there is his book Amthāl wa Ṣafaḥ al-Ḥakīm. We studied these books from childhood, and consequently his name remained in my mind from a very early age.

 Later, I came to Nadwatul Ulama in Lucknow. There, one of our teachers was Maulana Shahbaz, may Allah have mercy upon him. The truth is that, when it came to his passion and aptitude for Qurʾānic exegesis, it is difficult for us to find anyone comparable to him. Among all those teaching Tafsir at Nadwatul Ulama, he was the foremost. I was a student of Maulana Shahbaz Sahib, may Allah have mercy upon him, and I was very close to him. He, in turn, was a student of Maulana Akhtar Hasani Azmi, who later became the administrator of that very madrasa and was running it. And he was a student of Maulana Farahi, may Allah have mercy upon him.

 Maulana Farahi was born in 1863.

 If you look at the dates, he was not very much younger than Maulana Shibli Nomani. Maulana Shibli was born in 1857, while Maulana Farahi was born in 1863. So there was a difference of approximately six or seven years in their ages. Maulana Shibli died in 1914; he passed away at a comparatively young age. Maulana Farahi died in 1930.

 The Strength of Earlier Madrasas:

Now, generally speaking, when we talk about the madrasas that existed in India, we do not have a proper understanding today of what the educational system in India was like in its final period. At that time, the Indian subcontinent—India, Pakistan and Bangladesh—was all one India. In fact, these madrasas attracted people even from Central Asia, and people also came from the Arab world.

 Among the madrasas that existed in India, when we look at the institutions familiar to us today, we mention Nadwa and Deoband. But these are much later developments. In reality, the scholarly tradition of the region had three particularly important institutions in its later period.

 One was Madrasa Farangi Mahall. This madrasa had a particular character. It prepared people for the governments that existed towards the end of the Mughal period, as well as for the various states that subsequently emerged—both Muslim and non-Muslim. Its purpose was to prepare people who could become ministers, judges, administrators, and people capable of running governments.

 I have worked on the educational curriculum of India for approximately twenty years. People will be surprised to hear that the curriculum of India was, in reality, ninety percent secular—meaning that ninety percent of it was something that could be studied by a Muslim, a Hindu, or anyone else. Only about ten percent of it was religious, and in fact even less than that was specifically religious.

 In Hadith, one book called Mishkāt al-Anwār was taught; later, Mishkāt al-Maṣābīḥ became part of the curriculum. In Tafsir, the text changed over time. At one point, part of al-Kashshāf was taught; at another time, some other book was used. Eventually, they settled upon Tafsīr al-Jalālayn. Regarding Jalalayn, Maulana Shibli is reported to have said, in substance, that how could it properly be regarded as Tafsir when its words were fewer than the words of the Qurʾān itself. In any case, this became the book used for Tafsir.

 Otherwise, the curriculum as a whole was very broad. The graduates of these madrasas were educated people with expertise in many different fields. Today, however, a graduate of a madrasa would not even be able to imagine the breadth of education that such graduates once possessed.

 We say that we are graduates of Dars-i-Nizami, but in reality, the graduates of Dars-i-Nizami at Farangi Mahall were experts in astronomy. They made astronomical calculations; they understood the movements of the stars; they knew about measurements; they constructed roads and bridges; they knew the principles and methods by which things were determined. They were experts in how India was divided into its various regions and in many other matters. These were the kinds of people they produced.

 Indeed, when British rule was established, the administrative system that had developed from Abul Fazl’s Ain-i-Akbari continued to be followed, to a considerable extent, by the British government as well. So this curriculum was extremely diverse.

 There was no sectarian division within Farangi Mahall. People of different backgrounds benefited from it and studied there. Everyone could come; there were no such restrictions. People holding different kinds of views were present. Later, if someone wanted to specialise in Hadith, there were scholars whom he could approach and study under. That was the nature of the curriculum.

 On the other side was Madrasa Rahimiyya, established by Shah Abdul Rahim, may Allah have mercy upon him, the father of Shah Waliullah Dehlawi. This madrasa had a greater religious orientation, but its curriculum was approximately the same. The curriculum taught at Farangi Mahall was, broadly speaking, also taught there.

 There was another madrasa in India, near Lucknow, in a town called—or rather, a place called—Kasba Khairabad. The curriculum of Khairabad was particularly oriented towards the rational sciences (Ma‘qulat). In fact, one of the great scholars of Khairabad, Maulana Fazl-e-Khairabadi, is reported to have said: “After my death, both al-Shifa and al-Qanun of Ibn Sina will become widows, because there will be no one left to study them.” And, indeed, that tradition subsequently came to an end.

 So these were the three madrasas that were, in reality, the heirs of the old educational tradition of India. Later, the curriculum that we see became extremely narrow. When British rule was established, worldly or secular education began to become institutionalised. Many of the subjects that people had previously studied through the madrasas were gradually separated from madrasa education.

 Prerequisite for an Alim:

The surprising thing is that a person could become known as an alim even if he had no knowledge of history. In every educational system in the world, the fundamental subjects include language and literature, philosophy, and history. Without these three, historically, a person was not regarded as a truly learned scholar.

 But the curriculum of our madrasas became so narrow that, in history, if there was anything at all, it was mainly Hadith-based material that we regarded as history. As for philosophy and logic, people received only a little introduction to the old works. And the appreciation of literature was almost completely lost.

 This was not the case previously. The curriculum subsequently became very restricted. Later, sectarian narrowness also entered this curriculum.

 Maulana Farahi’s Intellectual Journey:

At the time when Maulana Farahi was receiving his education, there was not that much sectarian narrowness. And, truthfully speaking, the intellectual approach presented by Allama Shibli Nomani was quite remarkable. When he went to Aligarh, he came into contact with Orientalists as well. Later, he travelled, and his intellectual outlook developed around the idea that the old and the modern should be brought together, and that knowledge should not be divided into isolated compartments. In this respect, he was considerably ahead in his thinking. The truth is that when Maulana Shibli began trying to implement this idea of synthesis at Nadwa, he faced strong opposition and eventually had to leave.

 Maulana Farahi, may Allah have mercy upon him, belonged to a family that had been associated with the religion from the very beginning; he was a member of that same family.

 Maulana Farahi’s Intellectual Disposition: Averse to Imitation (Taqlīd):

Anyone who reads Maulana Farahi’s books will clearly see that his mind was questioning from the very beginning. Our teacher, Maulana Shahbaz Sahib, may Allah have mercy upon him, used to say that Maulana Kazim’s mind—and Maulana Farahi’s mind from his student days—was essentially an ijtihadi mind. He did not simply accept something because it was the established position. He questioned everything. He would raise questions about every matter.

 When you look at it this way, it is astonishing that, even in Tafsir, he raised questions about things that the Muslim world had traditionally regarded as settled. There was hardly anything that he simply accepted without examination. He questioned everything; he investigated everything.

 When I read his works, I am sometimes astonished. I think to myself: questions that never even occurred to us had occurred to him a hundred years ago, and he had researched them. This was his intellectual disposition from the very beginning.

 As Descartes says, the foundation of knowledge is doubt: do not simply accept something; question everything. Through questioning and doubt, you arrive at knowledge and understanding. Maulana Farahi’s approach was always one of questioning. He received the formal education that was available to him, but he approached it with this same ijtihadi mindset.

 Then he thought that he should study Hadith from the finest Muhaddith of his time. At that time, Allama Abdul Hayy Farangi Mahalli, may Allah have mercy upon him, was very renowned. I have no doubt that among all the scholars of his time, he was distinguished. His books were outstanding, and the scholarly world recognised his stature. But Maulana Farahi’s standards were different.

 Our teacher, Maulana Shahbaz Sahib, used to say that when Maulana Farahi went to study at Farangi Mahall, he left after only a few days because he felt that this approach was based on imitation (taqlid). So, even Maulana Farangi Mahalli was, in his view, following the traditional approach. This was Maulana Farahi’s intellectual disposition from the beginning.

 In any case, he subsequently received his education at Aligarh. That is a long story. And Allah Almighty had given him a good nature from the very beginning. There was piety and God-consciousness in him. His approach was different from that of Maulana Shibli, but Maulana Farahi’s own approach remained distinctive throughout. To such an extent that Maulana Gangohi of Deoband, may Allah have mercy upon him, is reported to have said that there were only two people in India whose manner of offering prayer he had never seen anyone equal. Although Maulana Farahi had visited various scholars—including Maulana Diljawi, Maulana Sanaullah Madani, and Maulana Thanawi—there were two people whose prayer he regarded as extraordinary. He said that he had never seen such khushu‘ and khudu‘, such humility and devotion, in prayer anywhere else.

 One was Maulana Farahi, and the other was the poet Akbar Allahabadi. The prayer of these two was remarkable. Maulana Farahi’s writings on prayer from the very beginning are astonishing. I have collected them in a book called Hikmat al-Salah. I gathered together everything he wrote concerning prayer. What piety he possessed, what God-consciousness he possessed! And Allah Almighty, through this, guided him.

 The love of the Qurʾān became firmly established in his heart. He says that when he began studying the Qurʾān, the first Surah whose meaning became clear to him was Surah al-Baqarah. He discusses its words and ideas, and, God willing, I will say something about that later.

 But whatever he wrote that was genuinely sound has, in one way or another, a connection with the Qurʾān. He devoted his life to it. He himself wrote that he spent thirty years working on the Qurʾān. His family members even told him that he was wasting his time, but he continued to devote himself to it. He was sitting in a village where there was hardly anyone who knew Arabic. All the books he wrote were in Arabic. All his treatises on Tafsir were in Arabic, except for his Tafsir of Surah al-Ikhlas, which he wrote in Urdu. Apart from that, almost everything was in Arabic. And there was no Arabic-speaking environment around him. Moreover, the Arabic he used was standard, highly accomplished Arabic.

 Allama Taqiuddin Haidari, may Allah have mercy upon him, who was considered one of the outstanding authorities on the Arabic language of his time, and Maulana Rasul Allahi and others had also studied him, said around 1920 that among all the people he had met in India, he had not found anyone whose command of the Arabic language was as elevated as Maulana Farahi’s, both in speaking and writing. His works were being published at that time in Al-Manar. Rashid Rida published several of his writings and explicitly wrote about him as well. So Maulana Farahi’s Arabic was of a very high standard even during that period.

 This was his character: his manner of expression was distinctive, and his foundation was always research and investigation. Even when he wrote his travelogue, its style was different from the ordinary travelogue. Even there, one can see his ijtihad. One might think: what more is there to say in a travelogue? The genre had already developed, and numerous books and summaries had been written. Yet even there, he exercised his own independent intellectual approach. We normally use a travelogue simply to tell the time, the places visited, and what happened. But his approach was different.

 And as for his eloquence and rhetoric, God willing, I will discuss that later if time permits. This is a brief introduction to Maulana Farahi—not a lengthy one. My real purpose is that his message should be understood.

 Maulana Farahi’s Approach Towards the Qurʾān

 Maulana Farahi says that the purpose of the Qurʾān is to make a human being muttaqi—to make him God-conscious and righteous. That is the purpose of the Qurʾān. And what is the means by which a person attains taqwa? It is that a person should receive guidance. So guidance is the path, while taqwa is the objective. That is why the Qurʾān says: هُدًى لِّلْمُتَّقِينَ “A guidance for the God-conscious.” The Qurʾān provides guidance, and as a result, people of taqwa are produced.

 And the people whom the Qurʾān has presented as examples of taqwa are, in reality, Abu Bakr al-Siddiq, Umar al-Faruq, Uthman, Ali, Khadijah, Aishah, and others. The Qurʾān wants to say that after reading this Book, the path of a human being becomes clear, and as a result, personalities such as these emerge. This is the real miracle of the Qurʾān: that the Qurʾān produced such human beings.

 Therefore, Maulana Farahi says that the Qurʾān states: كِتَابٌ أَنزَلْنَاهُ إِلَيْكَ مُبَارَكٌ لِّيَدَّبَّرُوا آيَاتِهِ

“A blessed Book which We have sent down to you, so that they may deeply reflect upon its verses.” Through tadabbur, deep reflection, guidance is obtained. And then what does it say? وَهَٰذَا كِتَابٌ أَنزَلْنَاهُ مُبَارَكٌ فَاتَّبِعُوهُ“And this is a blessed Book which We have sent down, so follow it…”

 So the blessing of the Qurʾān, the fact that the Qurʾān is a Book of goodness, blessing and benefit is connected with two things. The first is intellectual: reflect deeply upon it so that you may obtain guidance. The second is practical: follow the Qurʾān so that you may become people of taqwa.

 Simply thinking that we have memorised the Qurʾān, that we have kept the Qurʾān in our homes, that we have produced copies of it, that we have produced beautiful examples of calligraphy—obviously, people have always had an appreciation for aesthetics and beauty. But these are not the purposes for which the Book was revealed. The blessing of this Book depends upon two things: Tadabbur—reflecting deeply upon it; and ittiba‘—following it.

 In other words, obtaining guidance and reaching taqwa. This, therefore, is what Maulana Farahi’s Tafsir is essentially centred around. Today, you will find many people saying that there is a numerical miracle in the Qurʾān. They will say that the Qurʾān contains extraordinary miracles in numbers. They will discuss why the Qurʾān sometimes uses one word and sometimes another—for example, why it says imra’ah at one place and zawjah at another. They will focus on such details.

 They may say that at one point the Qurʾān uses one particular expression and somewhere else another; or that one word has changed; or that in one place it says Musa and Harun, while somewhere else it says Harun and Musa. They will spend their time studying these things.

 But if you ask such a person: Even if you are able to answer these questions, what guidance are you going to obtain from them? And what taqwa are you going to acquire through them? And, in truth, the matter is this: many of the things they point out can be countered by another intelligent person with an opposing explanation. There is no real consistency in such an approach.

 The blessing of this Book is connected with these things: reflecting deeply upon it, deriving meaning from the Book, and reaching Taqwa. You will see that each of these aspects is, in reality, connected with this.

 The Position of Ibrahim (Abraham), peace be upon him:

Now, in order to understand Maulana Farahi and the things he says about the Holy Qurʾān, there is one fundamental point. There is something that is generally not understood in the minds of ordinary people: the position of Ibrahim (Abraham), peace be upon him.

 Without understanding the position of Ibrahim, peace be upon him, within this religion, it is not possible to understand Maulana Farahi. And, truthfully, without understanding this, it is not possible to understand the Qurʾān itself.

 From whatever I have studied, I feel that there are perhaps only two people who truly understood the reality and significance of Ibrahim, peace be upon him. One is Maulana Farahi, and the other is Allama Iqbal. The depth with which Allama Iqbal has discussed Ibrahim is astonishing. At times, you find that Iqbal’s poetry contains references to ideas that Maulana Farahi had also pointed towards. Obviously, I am not saying that one person is completely identical to another, nor is it appropriate to make such comparisons. Everyone has his own level of understanding, and other writers have expressed these things in their own ways.

 But the essential point, if you want to understand Maulana Farahi, is this: You must first understand the position of Ibrahim, peace be upon him, within this religion. And this is precisely why the Qurʾān describes Ibrahim, peace be upon him, as an Imam. Allah says that He tested Ibrahim with certain commands and, after he fulfilled them, declared:

إِنِّي جَاعِلُكَ لِلنَّاسِ إِمَامًا“Indeed, I am going to make you an Imam for mankind.” Qurʾān 2:124

 He was to be made an Imam for all humanity. And the things that the Qurʾān says about Ibrahim are not the exclusive property of Bani Isra’il, nor of Bani Isma’il. The Israelites would say that this was a matter belonging to the family of Israel. But Allah makes it clear that Ibrahim’s significance is not confined to one family or one lineage. He is an Imam for all human beings. When he built the Ka’bah, Allah says: وَأَذِّنْ فِي النَّاسِ بِالْحَجِّ“And proclaim the pilgrimage to mankind.” It was to be proclaimed to all people. And when Hajj is mentioned, the Qurʾān again says: وَلِلَّهِ عَلَى النَّاسِ حِجُّ الْبَيْتِ“And pilgrimage to the House is a duty owed to Allah by mankind.” Qurʾān 3:97

 Thus Ibrahim, peace be upon him, was truly chosen for the whole world.

 Maulana Farahi says that the du’a of Ibrahim in Surah al-Baqarah—the prayer in which he asks for the raising of a messenger among his descendants—is fundamental to understanding the structure of the Surah. He says that Surah al-Baqarah as a whole is arranged in relation to this prayer of Ibrahim.

 If you understand Ibrahim, peace be upon him, understanding the Qurʾān becomes easier. The Qurʾān has given particular attention to the millah of Ibrahim—the way and religious tradition of Ibrahim. We say that we are Sunnis, Malikis, Shafi’i’s, and so on. Leave all of that aside. The one whom the Qurʾān describes as the leader of all the prophets, Muhammad (peace be upon him), was himself told: ثُمَّ أَوْحَيْنَا إِلَيْكَ أَنِ اتَّبِعْ مِلَّةَ إِبْرَاهِيمَ حَنِيفًا“Then We revealed to you: Follow the way of Ibrahim, inclining towards truth.” Qurʾān 16:123. Muhammad (peace be upon him) was commanded to follow the millah of Ibrahim.

 After Ibrahim, peace be upon him, all the prophets who came—Musa, Zakariya, Dawud, Sulayman, Isa, and Muhammad (peace be upon him)—were followers of the Abrahamic way. It is the same religion and the same fundamental principle. The branches may differ according to circumstances, but the fundamental principles remain.

 Maulana Farahi’s point is that the foundational principles of the religion came from Ibrahim, peace be upon him, while the detailed form of the religious law associated with later revelation, particularly that of Musa, developed subsequently. And this religion of ours is, in reality, a comprehensive expression of the teachings of Ibrahim, the teachings of all the prophets, and particularly the teachings of Ibrahim and Musa, peace be upon them both. The Qurʾān says: إِنَّ هَٰذَا لَفِي الصُّحُفِ الْأُولَىٰ ۝ صُحُفِ إِبْرَاهِيمَ وَمُوسَىٰ“Indeed, this is found in the earlier Scriptures—the Scriptures of Ibrahim and Musa.” Qurʾān 87:18–19

 The Surahs that were revealed in Makkah follow, in their fundamental approach, the Abrahamic method—the principles of religion. And the commandments that were revealed in Madinah are, to a great extent, related to the transmitted/legal tradition associated with the Mosaic Shari’ah.

 In this way, therefore, the personality of Ibrahim is central. Whatever Maulana Farahi has said about Ibrahim, peace be upon him, is truly very valuable. It is impossible to explain all of it in this brief discussion. But the foundation of the millah of Ibrahim consists of two things. And this is also the essential point:

 Religion, Culture and the Antidote:

All the prophets who came before Ibrahim, peace be upon him, had essentially one and the same religion. Allah Almighty’s religion, very quickly, becomes culture. It takes time for religion to become culture, but once religion becomes culture, the death of religion has occurred. Culture is the death of religion. Culture and habits have neither intention nor understanding. A person gets up in the morning, for example, and eats with his left hand, and when you ask him why he is doing it, he has no explanation. There is no reasoning behind culture. Culture is simply habit—it continues because it has always been done.

 If religion becomes culture, then, in reality, the death of religion has taken place. And this is precisely the distortion that occurred among the earlier nations. Fundamentally, the problem was that religion very quickly became culture. When Allah Almighty chose Ibrahim (Abraham), peace be upon him, He gave him something that would prevent religion from becoming merely culture. But our Muslim community has not understood this to the extent that it should. His is the millah, the Abrahamic way. This millah has several elements, several foundations, several pillars. Among them, the most fundamental is that Ibrahim, peace be upon him, possessed two qualities: One was intellectual courage, and the other was moral courage.

  The Method of Ibrahim:

The method of Ibrahim, peace be upon him, was natural from the very beginning. He made his fitrah—the innate human nature—his point of reference. Suppose we were having a discussion here, and the question arose: What is the best food? One person might name Indian food, another Pakistani food, another something else. Why? Because our reference point is our culture; our taste and our cultural background become our reference. The correct way would be that, if we were discussing what the best food is, we should make our fitrah our point of reference. And fitrah would tell us that the best food is that which is good for one’s health and pleasurable in taste. What would that be? An apple, a cucumber, a carrot—things that perhaps nobody would choose! But that is what natural, instinctive judgment would tell us. Whenever we make fitrah our reference point, we are following what Ibrahim, peace be upon him, understood from an early age. His fitrah was sound.

 When it came to fitrah, he never allowed himself to be governed by preconceived values—neither by culture, nor by traditions, nor simply by what his father or mother had done. There was no such constraint upon him. And he used his intellect so that whatever he did would be in accordance with his fitrah.

 What was the distinguishing characteristic of Ibrahim, peace be upon him?

It was intellectual courage. Questioning everything. His father was doing something; his father was making idols. And he would think: Brother, our father is making idols. He is making them and selling them. Is this really something good simply because it is a way of making money?”

 I went to Palestine, and I visited a village. Near a mosque there was a shop owned by a Muslim. When we went there, he was selling various things, most of which were crosses and other Christian religious objects. Western tourists would go there and buy these things. I said to him: “Brother, you are a Muslim. These things are associated with shirk. Why are you selling them?” He replied: “I have to earn money. Most of the people who come here are Christians, and they buy these things. I make money from it.” So, everyone is trying to make money.

 But Ibrahim, peace be upon him, was not like that. You could not persuade him simply by saying that it was a way of making money. For him, this was not merely an economic matter. The question was: Whom should a human being worship? Whom should a human being bow to before?

 We are making idols and distributing them everywhere and making money from them. He questioned this. He questioned his entire nation. When people were worshipping the stars, the moon and the sun, he expressed his rejection of all of them. He said: لَا أُحِبُّ الْآفِلِينَ“I do not love those that set.” Qurʾān 6:76. Whenever I read this sentence, I am struck by it. In the Qurʾān, after La ilaha illallah, there is hardly a statement more powerful than: لَا أُحِبُّ الْآفِلِينَ

 Maulana Farahi’s point is that the various acts of worship performed by Muslims are, in a sense, connected with this principle of “I do not love those that set.” The times of prayer—Fajr, Zuhr, Asr, Maghrib and Isha—are all connected with the movement of the heavenly bodies. The Qurʾān says: وَالنَّجْمِ إِذَا هَوَىٰ“By the star when it sets.” The various forms of worship ultimately remind us that the star sets, the moon sets, and the sun sets.

 So, what is the first quality that Maulana Farahi identifies in Ibrahim, peace be upon him? It is intellectual courage—al-jur’ah al-’aqliyyah. Ibrahim intellectually relied upon the capacity that Allah Almighty had given him. If Allah has given us intellect, then that intellect must be used. This is one of the most important characteristics of Ibrahim; peace be upon him.

 He made no compromise in this regard—whether the matter concerned his father, his mother, the king, or the prevailing culture. His position was: Allah has given us intellect; therefore, we must use our intellect. Many people use their intellect, but their reference points are wrong. What reference did Ibrahim choose for his intellect? His fitrah.

 He used his intellect to discover and understand the things that correspond to fitrah: What does fitrah require? What does fitrah desire? What was the first quality within him? الجُرْأَةُ العَقْلِيَّة — intellectual courage.

 The second quality of Ibrahim, peace be upon him, was this: Once something had been established intellectually as true, to conceal it would be a betrayal. Then it had to be expressed. And he therefore displayed moral courage. There are many scholars who, when you speak to them, will agree with you. Then you say to them: Brother, if you believe this, then say it openly. They reply: This is our problem. These are our people. It would not be appropriate. Our reputation would suffer. This or that might happen. They forget.

 The chains of sectarian affiliation, the chains of the madrasa, the chains of tradition these things have prevented people from expressing the truth. Ibrahim, peace be upon him, threw off all these chains. This was the quality that Allah Almighty approved of.

 And Allah determined that, until the Day of Judgment, whoever would remain upon the true religion would have to do the same. Only then would the religion remain alive. Whoever comes as a reformer, whoever comes as a teacher, whoever comes as a da’i—what should be the first quality within him? Intellectual courage — الجُرْأَةُ العَقْلِيَّة. Intellectual bravery—intellectual boldness. And what else should he possess? moral courage الجُرْأَةُ الخُلُقِيَّة . When something is established to be true, one must act upon it and demonstrate it in practice.

 When something is right, then one has to demonstrate it by actually doing it. These two things are not easy. As long as these two things remain within the religion, the religion will always remain strong. Wherever these two things disappeared, the religion became weak. Allah Almighty has not created anything more powerful than the intellect for the guidance of human beings. It is the intellect that generates strength. This was Maulana Farahi’s insight: that the Millat of Ibrahim (peace be upon him) is the key to understanding this religion, to understanding the Qurʾān. The first thing I will remember whenever I want to understand Maulana Farahi is: Ibrahim (peace be upon him).

 The Significance of Ibrahim Sacrificing Ismail:

On this subject, he wrote a very remarkable book, الرأي الصحيح في من هو الذبيح. People consider this issue very ordinary: Ibrahim (peace be upon him) sacrificed which of his sons — what difference does it make? Some say it was Ishaq, some say Ismail. But Maulana Farahi says that it does make a difference. According to him, the entire structure of the Qurʾān rests on the fact that the one who was to be sacrificed was Ismail (peace be upon him). And the explanation of Islam itself follows from this.

 Maulana Farahi clarified this issue from the Qurʾān, from the Bible, and from their verses. And when you read it, it becomes clear that the Jews themselves do not understand their own Book. This courage is not easy. This is something that only a person who possesses real intellectual ability can undertake. Otherwise, to challenge the Jews and say, “This is written in your Book, and you do not know what it means” — this is not easy. This courage and this understanding will only develop when a person has complete confidence in his fikr — in his intellectual framework.

 Thus, Maulana Farahi clarified the imamat of Ibrahim (peace be upon him) not merely in this book, but everywhere. That is why the Ka‘bah is central in his thought. The Ka‘bah has centrality. Sacrifice has centrality. All these things are connected with the Sunnah of Ibrahim (peace be upon him) and with his Millat. This religion is, in reality, the result of the teachings of Ibrahim (peace be upon him).

 The coming of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) was not something entirely new. The Qurʾān will say: قُلْ مَا كُنتُ بِدْعًا مِّنَ الرُّسُلِ“Say: I am not something unprecedented among the messengers.” Qurʾān 46:9. I am not saying anything new. The matter is the same matter as Ibrahim. It is your Shari‘ah; it is almost the same. The only thing that was said was that many things which had previously been declared unlawful and had been restricted were later revealed to be permitted. Now, after your arrival, your distinguishing characteristic is that, through your Prophethood, those restrictions have been removed. And generally, what is it? The form of the religion itself is the Imamat.

 Again, the first thing for understanding Maulana Farahi is to understand the Millat of Ibrahim. This is the foundation. When we come to the Qurʾān, the summary of Maulana Farahi’s thought is this: before reading the Qurʾān, keep three things in mind.

 Before You Read the Qurʾān, Keep These 3 Things in Mind:

One thing is that the Qurʾān — القرآن كتاب كامل — is a complete Book.

 The Qurʾān repeatedly emphasizes that within this Book We have not left out anything relating to guidance, anything relating to the guidance of human beings. Everything has been put into it and given. If you study in the madrasas, a certain mindset develops that the Qurʾān is an incomplete Book. It will even be said that if you want to learn how to perform wudu, you cannot get it from the Qurʾān; you have to study Hanafi fiqh. You cannot pray; you have to study Hanafi fiqh.

 In other words, for the guidance of Muslims, wudu itself becomes more important; it becomes assumed that when we have to ascertain some practical matter, what is our reference? Wudu, guidance, through the intermediary.

 If you belong to another school of thought, then you consult the book of that school. If you want to know an issue concerning inheritance, you read the books that have been written on fara’id, such as Siraji or whatever it may be. If people want to know something about spirituality, they are told, “Read Ihya ‘Ulum al-Din, read Maulana Rumi, read such-and-such, read such-and-such.” This has become our mindset. And when it comes to matters of aqidah, then our Imams are somewhere else. Somewhere Imam Ghazali is the Imam; somewhere Imam Razi is the Imam; somewhere there is another Imam.

 So, what is the benefit of this Book? What is the benefit of the Book that Allah Almighty made the Book of Guidance? Its benefit has been reduced merely to this: read it in Taraweeh. It is in our minds that we have to offer Taraweeh. But then, what has this become? How much have we demeaned the syllabus of Allah’s Book? Allah said to His Prophet: وَرَتِّلِ الْقُرْآنَ تَرْتِيلًا“And recite the Qurʾān with measured, deliberate recitation.”

 In reality, what people have in their minds is that the Prophet (peace be upon him) used to recite the Qurʾān for himself. Whereas the reality is that the command to recite the Qurʾān was, in fact, for tabligh—for conveying the message. The Prophet (peace be upon him) used to recite the Qurʾān and make people hear it. And the way he did this was that, when he was praying, if he was reciting, he would recite quietly so that the Quraysh who were passing by could hear him. The qirā’ah that is mentioned in the Qurʾān: وَإِذَا قُرِئَ الْقُرْآنُ فَاسْتَمِعُوا لَهُ — we have taken this and applied it to prayer, saying that when you are behind the Imam in prayer, you cannot recite the Qurʾān. But there is no discussion there about prayer and such matters. The point being made is that when the Prophet (peace be upon him) is conveying the Qurʾān, then people should listen to it, they should not disturb it. The Qurʾān is teaching this etiquette so that the message may reach people completely.

 Maulana Farahi says that the Qurʾān is a complete Book. There is absolutely no doubt that it is a complete Book. There is no matter of religious guidance which the Qurʾān has not made clear. If Allah Almighty Himself cannot write His Book properly, then whom else are we going to rely upon? The foundation of Maulana Farahi’s thought is precisely this: the Qurʾān is a complete Book.

 The second foundation is this: the second aspect of “Kitāb Kāmil”. What this means is that the meanings of this Book, and how those meanings are to be acted upon, have already been determined. The Prophet has demonstrated them through his own practice. It cannot now be that we are sitting here as professors from Oxford and Cambridge and say, “Forget the Prophet; I have the Book with me. Now I will tell you what this means and what that means.”

 Maulana Farahi says that the Qurʾān made one man a Prophet and then made all human beings followers of that Prophet. Maulana Farahi’s tafsir is based upon this approach. His methodology is to try to understand what the language was at the time when the Qurʾān was being revealed; understand what was understood from that Book at that time. Then, after that, comes the second stage: how do we apply it to our own age?

 The first effort should be to understand how the Prophet upon whom the Book was revealed understood it, and how he acted upon it. Once that becomes clear, then the second question arises: our age has changed; our space and time are different. How do we make it applicable to our circumstances? That is the second stage. The first stage is extremely important. Generally, what happens in the interpretation of the Qurʾān is that people begin with the second stage. Maulana Farahi says that the Qurʾān will only be understood when a person understands the language in which it was revealed, understands the society in which it was revealed, understands what good and evil meant in that age, understands what the ma‘ruf matters were for the Arabs, and what the munkar matters were.

 What did the Arabs call ma‘ruf? What did the Arabs call munkar? What exactly were these things?  What have we done? What have our ma‘ruf and munkar become? In Hidayah, there are these matters of ma‘ruf and munkar. Now we understand the Qurʾān according to our own manner and idiom. Maulana Farahi says that ma‘ruf and munkar, in reality, are fitri and ‘aqli’. They are matters of human nature and reason.

 What is a good father? A good father is not someone who tells his children, “My sons and my daughters, I have written twenty rules here. Ten of these things are things you must do, and ten are things you must not do. If you do these twenty things, then you are good children.” Even if they act upon all twenty, they will not necessarily become good children. The right kind of father is one who says to his children, “My sons and my daughters, live as righteous people.” And what is righteousness? He knows it; his nature knows it; his intellect knows it. Simply making a list of twenty things does not make a person good.

 What have we done? We have recorded, in books of Fiqh, detail upon detail upon detail, matters of rulings that were applicable a thousand years ago. He has made up all sorts of details which were formulated in society a thousand years ago; in fact, sometimes even earlier, different assumptions were made, hypothetical things were devised, and we have come to regard them as facts.

 This is actually a very important point: this man is the follower of the Prophet. How did that Prophet teach? What explanations did he give? Did he explain all these details? Did Allah ever tell him how many fard, how many wajib, how many sunnah, and how many mustahabb acts there are in prayer? Did he ever explain which things make sajdah sahw obligatory?

 Today, this used to be part of our examinations. We had to memorize which things make sajdah sahw obligatory. And we had to study the issues concerning hayd and nifas. Charts about menstruation used to be prepared by hand—charts that, to this day, we people have never really been able to understand. But they were prepared, and we were examined on them. The poet Ghalib said something very appropriate. Ghalib criticized a scholar and said, in effect, “You who keep explaining the rules of hayd and nifas, understand poetry.”

 The correct point is that our minds had become consumed by these minute details. Maulana Farahi says that the Qurʾān is a Kitāb Mustaqarr. Its meaning was known to the Prophet, and that Prophet demonstrated how to act upon it. Our effort should be to understand it. What happened was that our teaching and interpretation became so distorted. So many absurdities were introduced, so many stories were invented—one becomes embarrassed.

 If a person reads Surah Yusuf, which is a Qurʾānic surah, reading Surah Yusuf raises a person’s Taqwa and strengthens his faith. But read it through some of the tafsirs, and filth is introduced into it. They tell you that a woman was stripped naked and that he sat beside her in that condition, as though there were some kind of relationship between them. Does the Qurʾān say this? The Qurʾān says that he refrained. The Qurʾān is teaching us. It is showing us an exemplary model.

 And similar things have been said about Sulaiman (peace be upon him), Dawud (peace be upon him), and the Prophet Lut (peace be upon him)—such things have been attributed to them that are contrary to the teachings of the Qurʾān. Maulana Farahi says follow this Prophet. What did this Prophet do? How did he act? What is the second thing? Kitāb Mustaqarr. This Book is settled. It is not a book like a book of poetry.

 The straightforward point is that poetry is such that, if you were to argue with the poet and he were to come back to life and say, “Brother, you have created a very profound meaning out of what I wrote,” it would not necessarily mean that the poet himself intended that meaning. In poetry and literary works, it is not necessary that you know precisely what the speaker intended. Meanings change; interpretations keep changing.

 But in a Book of Guidance, it is essential that the intended meaning of the Speaker be known. العلم بمعنى المراد — to know the intended meaning. If the intention of the Speaker is lost, then understand that the guidance is lost. What does Allah Almighty want to say? Suppose you come to London. There is a London Underground map. If you take that London Underground map and interpret it according to some completely different framework, you can keep doing whatever you like, but the important thing is to see what the people who made the map intended.

 That is a very important point. So, the second thing is: What is the Book? It is Mustaqarr — settled.

 The third thing is that within this Book there is عدم الاختلاف — absence of contradiction, consistency. It is simply impossible that the Book should say, “Do not lie to Muslims, but you can lie to non-Muslims.” This Book never teaches that. When this Book teaches something, it teaches it consistently: never lie, whether you are speaking to a Muslim or a non-Muslim. Do not dishonour anyone, whether that person is a Muslim or a non-Muslim. There is nowhere in the teachings of this Book any inconsistency.

 What does عدم الاختلاف fundamentally mean? Its teachings, all of them, are coherent, organized, proportionate, and harmonious. There is harmony among them. Nowhere is one Qurʾānic story contradictory to another Qurʾānic story. The entire message is settled and consistent.

 The first aspect of عدم الاختلاف is: What is the complete message of the Qurʾān? It is harmonious. There is no verse in the Qurʾān that will say, “Dishonour women.” Wherever it speaks about them, it speaks in terms of honour. The Qurʾān will never say that only men have been given honour. The Qurʾān says: وَلَقَدْ كَرَّمْنَا بَنِي آدَمَ“We have certainly honoured the children of Adam.” We have created all human beings with dignity. Human dignity is part of human nobility.

 Therefore, whenever human beings are dealt with, the standard must be one of honour. The Qurʾān never departs from this. It is always consistent. And then, concerning honour, it tells us what the greatest honour is: إِنَّ أَكْرَمَكُمْ عِندَ اللَّهِ أَتْقَاكُمْ“Indeed, the most honoured of you in the sight of Allah is the one most mindful of Him.” Qurʾān 49:13. This is the standard. The standard is not family. It is not lineage. It is not being a man or being a woman. If there is any distinction, then the person who is more muttaqi, more conscious of Allah, is closer to God.

 So, this is the third point Maulana Farahi makes: the Qurʾān is a Book of complete consistency. Inconsistency does not exist in the Qurʾān. This is the first aspect.

Another part of this عدم الاختلاف, according to Maulana Farahi, is that the Qurʾān as a whole is well-arranged, and its verses and surahs are proportionate to one another.

 If Surah Al-Baqarah were followed by Surah Aal ‘Imran without any reason, and Aal ‘Imran were followed by An-Nisa without any reason, and there were no connection whatsoever between the verses and surahs, then this would be inconsistency. There would be no coherence. The second point is that there is proportion between all the verses and surahs — تناسب الآيات والسور. He had previously discovered some aspects of this principle of proportion.

 Maulana Farahi then says that the third aspect of عدم الاختلاف, and the most important one, is that the entire Qurʾān is an organized Book. He divided the Qurʾān into different groups, and each group is organized, while there is harmony between one group and the next. Within a group, the surahs are harmonious with one another. And within the groups of surahs there is also pairing — زوج. Sometimes a particular concept has two aspects. Allah Almighty revealed separate surahs in order to make those two aspects clear.

 Now, Maulana Farahi’s view is that the first group consists of Surah al-Fatihah, Surah al-Baqarah, Surah Aal-e-Imran, Surah al-Nisa, and Surah al-Ma’idah. The interesting principle here is that the fundamentals of religion are associated with Makkah, while the branches and detailed applications are associated with Madinah. Therefore, the opening surahs of a group would generally be Makkan, while one or more of its final surahs would be Madinan. Then a new group would begin with Makkan surahs. So, in this group, Surah al-Fatihah through Surah al-Ma’idah form a unit: the beginning is Makkan, while the latter part, including Surah al-Ma’idah, is Madinan.

 Then there is the second group, which consists of four surahs: Surah al-An‘am and Surah al-A‘raf are Makkan, followed by Surah al-Anfal and Surah al-Tawbah (al-Bara’ah), which are Madinan. In this way, you can see how, beginning with the fundamentals of religion, the Qurʾān then proceeds to the branches, details, and particulars of the religion.

 Similarly, Surah al-Baqarah is the surah of faith: it establishes that belief in the Prophet is essential. Then Surah Aal-e-Imran deals with Islam—that one must obey God by accepting and following the Prophet. What, then, is the meaning of Islam? It means that you accept the commands that the Prophet brings; only then do you submit yourself to the command of God: “Indeed, the religion with Allah is Islam” Qurʾān 3:19.

 Then, in Surah al-Nisa, it is explained that when people obey God and obey the Prophet, Islam comes into being. But sometimes, when this happens, a society may fail to care sufficiently about its weaker members, and their rights may consequently be violated. Therefore, Allah Almighty revealed Surah al-Nisa as a complement to and completion of what is presented in Surah Aal-e-Imran, so that the rights of the weaker sections of society—particularly women and orphans—might be clearly and independently established.

 What was happening in society was that these rights were being neglected; Surah al-Nisa brought attention to them. And Surah al-Ma’idah serves as a completion of the group—and, in fact, as a completion of the entire religious framework in this respect.

 Similarly, there is pairing within the surahs. The idea can be seen, for example, in Surah al-Talaq and Surah al-Tahrim, which occur next to each other. Both deal with matters relating to women. Generally speaking, in dealing with women, men have two shortcomings. The first is that if a man does not like a woman, he may begin to hate her and consequently mistreat or oppress her. The second is that if he loves her, he may also go beyond the proper limits; he may become so attached to her that he does whatever she asks, even if doing so requires him to sacrifice obedience to God and His Messenger.

 So, in Surah al-Talaq, it is explained that if something arises between you and your wives and the relationship becomes contentious, that is not necessarily abnormal, it is a natural possibility. The Qurʾān does not forbid such circumstances. But do not hate them. You have rights, but do not simply cast them out; treat them with dignity. That is why Surah al-Talaq repeatedly emphasizes this point. The message of Surah al-Talaq is therefore that if circumstances ever arise in which you have to separate from your wives, do not let separation turn into hatred.

 And in Surah al-Tahrim, the other side is addressed: if there is love, that love must not go beyond its proper limits. These two surahs, in reality, also serve to clarify the issue of the fitnah or trial associated with women, which is mentioned in Surah al-Taghabun.

 What Maulana Farahi, may Allah have mercy on him, did was to present these principles in order to demonstrate the Qurʾān as a well-organized and coherent Book. According to Maulana Farahi, every surah has a central theme, and all the teachings of that surah are connected to that central theme.

 Generally, when people try to determine the relationship between verses, what do they do? They look at each verse in relation to the verse immediately before it. Maulana Farahi says that this is not necessarily correct. Many verses are actually connected sentences or passages. The Qurʾān frequently does this: for example, Ibrahim (peace be upon him) may be saying something, and since this is Allah’s Book, Allah may then clarify that statement in His own words. Then Ibrahim’s words appear again. People may assume that everything in the passage was said by Ibrahim. But no—the passage may contain several sentences that Allah has revealed in His own words to clarify the matter, followed by Ibrahim’s statement.

 The same thing happens when Moses (peace be upon him) is being discussed. Sentences are added within the passage. These kinds of constructions occur frequently in the Qurʾān. Therefore, when examining the coherence and relationship of passages, it is essential to understand what constitutes a connected sentence or passage, to look at what precedes it, and to understand what point is actually being discussed.

 Similarly, when the Qurʾān says in Surah al-Baqarah: حَافِظُوا عَلَى الصَّلَوَاتِ وَالصَّلَاةِ الْوُسْطَىٰ

“Guard strictly the prayers, especially the middle prayer” Qurʾān 2:228, many people are puzzled because the passage is discussing divorce, and they wonder: Where did the discussion of prayer suddenly come from? Maulana Farahi offered what he considered the best solution to this issue. His point was that the new section begins precisely with the subject of prayer. The Qurʾān contains many instances where a passage begins with prayer and also concludes with prayer, thereby creating a connection between the two parts. For example, in Surah al-Mu’minun, the command concerning prayer occurs at the beginning of a section, and the section is also brought to a close with prayer. The same pattern occurs in Surah al-Ma‘arij.

 These are the kinds of principles he presented for careful consideration. In any case, when Maulana Farahi discusses the order, coherence, and consistency of the Qurʾān, what does he actually mean? In reality, he identifies three types of consistency.

 The first is that all of its themes are mutually harmonious. The Qurʾān does not contain a situation in which one statement is made and somewhere else a contradictory statement is made. That kind of contradiction does not exist in the Qurʾān.

 The second point is that there is coherence and proportion between the verses and the surahs.

 The third point is that, in reality, there is a central theme present in the Qurʾān, within the surahs. What, then, is the purpose of having a surah? If there is no particular theme within a surah, then one could simply say that Surah Al-Baqarah starts and then ends. But when a person looks at it, he feels that the Qurʾān is beginning and then coming to an end, while in between there are different things appearing: stories, narratives, parables, arguments, arguments from the universe, arguments from within the human self, and questions that keep arising.

 Maulana Farahi wrote books about this—particularly Dalā’il al-Nizām, Muqaddamah Tafsīr, Nizām al-Qur’ān, and so on. Maulana Farahi, may Allah have mercy on him, wrote three kinds of books in order to reflect upon the Qurʾān and its understanding.

 Maulana Farahi Investigating the Meaning of Words in Arabic

The first thing Maulana Farahi says is that people make a mistake when they try to determine the meanings of individual Qurʾānic words. What do they do? They consult dictionaries and translate them according to this dictionary or that dictionary. He says that a dictionary is not sufficient to understand what the Qurʾān intends, because language is always broader than a dictionary.

 One has to see how the language was actually used—what the poetry of the Arabs tells us, and how the Arabs themselves used a particular word. This took his research to an entirely different level.

 Take, for example, فَبِأَيِّ آلَاءِ رَبِّكُمَا تُكَذِّبَانِ . Generally, people say, “ālā’ means blessings.” Maulana Farahi says that blessing is merely an implication of the word; it is not its actual meaning. And the Qurʾān itself provides evidence for this. Within Surah al-Rahman, the word ālā’ occurs in connection with Hell and other matters as well. People may stretch the meaning and even somehow turn Hell into a “blessing,” but that is a separate matter. Hell is not a blessing. Maulana Farahi therefore says that ālā’ means remarkable things, extraordinary manifestations, wonders and signs—in other words, the remarkable manifestations of God. So, the verse would mean: “Then which of the wonders/signs of your Lord will you both deny?”

 Ordinarily, this meaning does not immediately become apparent. But what did Maulana Farahi do? He examined Arabic poetry and studied how the word ālā’ had been used by the Arabs. When he examined the poetry, it became clear to him that ālā’ does not simply mean “blessings”; rather, it refers to remarkable acts, extraordinary things and manifestations. This becomes quite evident.

 He carried out this kind of investigation and wrote extensively on the individual words of the Qurʾān, and his research on these words is authoritative. Similarly, we commonly say Āl and Ashāb, as though they form a pair. But, strictly speaking, Āl and Ashāb are not a pair in that sense. The Qurʾān uses Āl—for example, Āl Fir‘awn. We also say: اللَّهُمَّ صَلِّ عَلَىٰ مُحَمَّدٍ وَعَلَىٰ آلِ مُحَمَّدٍ“ O Allah, send blessings upon Muhammad and upon the Āl of Muhammad.” You were not taught to say Āl Muhammad merely in the sense of Muhammad’s children. You also say: اللَّهُمَّ صَلِّ عَلَىٰ إِبْرَاهِيمَ وَعَلَىٰ آلِ إِبْرَاهِيمَ“O Allah, send blessings upon Abraham and upon the Āl of Abraham.” Maulana Farahi derived from Arabic poetry, as well as from the Qurʾān itself, that Āl does not mean descendants or children. Rather, Āl refers to those who follow someone—their adherents and followers. Thus, when we say: اللَّهُمَّ صَلِّ عَلَىٰ مُحَمَّدٍ وَعَلَىٰ آلِ مُحَمَّدٍ it means: “O Allah, send blessings upon Muhammad and upon the community of Muhammad, upon those who follow him.” This includes the Companions and all of us. There is no need to restrict it to his family or descendants; that meaning is not inherent in the word Āl there.

 Similarly: أَدْخِلْ آلَ فِرْعَوْنَ أَشَدَّ الْعَذَابِ“Admit the Āl of Pharaoh into the severest punishment.”

Here, it refers to the people of Pharaoh—to Pharaoh’s followers, those who followed the Pharaoh and his way—being admitted into the severest punishment. These are the kinds of questions he investigated.

 In fact, his fundamental position is that the very words which the Qurʾān uses contain within themselves the things that the Qurʾān intends to convey. At times, the Qurʾān itself creates such a context that the meaning becomes clear. For example, what does Islam mean? The Qurʾān itself explains it. When Allah says: فَلَمَّا أَسْلَمَا وَتَلَّهُ لِلْجَبِينِ“Then, when they had both submitted, and he laid him down upon his forehead…” This verse itself, in reality, explains what Islam means: submission.

 Maulana Farahi’s work on the Mufradāt al-Qurʾān [“The Vocabulary of the Qurʾān” or “The Words of the Qurʾān.”] is intended to show that we should not merely search for the meanings of words in dictionaries. Rather, we should examine where and how the word was used. And this is correct: language is fundamentally a matter of usage; language is not simply a dictionary. It is actually very rare in the history of the world for people to have first spoken isolated individual words and then constructed a language from them. People naturally speak sentences. Later, people extract individual words from those sentences and study them separately. But originally, people speak in complete expressions and sentences. Maulana Farahi’s point is to look at how the Arabs actually used the word, particularly in their poetry, and examine its individual usages.

 The second thing he dealt with was how sentences should be understood and how the message should be understood—what is its language and what is its style? For this purpose, he wrote a book called Asālīb al-Qur’ān. It is not a complete book, but whatever it contains is very profound and worth reading. He discusses how the Qurʾān is structured, how different elements in the Qurʾān are joined together, how one new subject begins, and particularly how the Qurʾān moves from one point to another.

 He shed considerable light on these matters that, unfortunately, are known to very few people. After reading it, it becomes clear what a Qurʾānic verse is like. So, regarding the Qurʾān’s letters and so forth, this is a very important matter. Around this period, he also wrote another book, Jāmiʿ al-Balāghah. This book is truly unique; there is nothing comparable to it.

 Maulana Abul Hasan Ali Nadwi, may Allah have mercy on him, relates that when Jāmiʿ al-Balāghah was being printed, the quality of printing was obviously not very good. Some people who were involved in its publication told Maulana Abul Hasan Nadwi, “Since you are going to India, why don’t you have this book published there, perhaps with someone writing an introduction to it?” Maulana says that he went to the Rābitah ʿĀlam-e-Islāmī and there was an expert in Arabic rhetoric. He gave him the book and asked him to read it and write an introduction for its publication. When he went back again, he asked him about it. The man said, “Maulana, to tell you the truth, you gave me this book, and I thought there must be other books on rhetoric like this in the world, and that I would read it and write an introduction. But this is something completely different. It has overturned everything we have studied. This is an entirely different field. We have never studied anything like this. Our whole way of thinking about the subject is different.”

 In simple terms, Maulana Farahi’s position is this: How does speech become eloquent and rhetorically effective? The rhetoricians have their own theories about this—this condition is necessary, that condition is necessary, and so on. But Maulana Farahi says that truthfulness makes speech eloquent. In other words, when you present something that is true, you should present it truthfully. You should neither understate it nor exaggerate it. The closer your statement is to the truth of the matter, the more effective it will be. This applies to simile and metaphor as well. A simile or metaphor should not involve exaggeration to the point of falsehood. For example, if a man is genuinely brave, you can say, “He is as brave as a lion.” But if he is afraid of mosquitoes and flies and you say that he is as brave as a lion, that is not eloquence. Eloquence requires truthfulness in what you are saying.

 Maulana Farahi’s view is that the influence of the Persians caused a certain idea to become prevalent: “اكذبوا الشعر أحسنه”— the more exaggeration and falsehood there is, the better the poetry is. People began exaggerating. They praised their kings and heroes excessively. If you look at Persian poetry, for example, including Firdausi, even Darius, who was defeated by Alexander, is presented by Firdausi as a hero. The praise is extraordinary.

 The Arabs, however, were different. If their own hero was defeated, they would acknowledge his defeat. There is a line:

حَسِبْنَا كُلَّ عُبَيْدَةَ شَهْمَتًا

لَيَالِيَنَا لَاقَيْنَا جَزَاءً وَخَصْمًا

 When they encountered the tribe of Jadhīmah they suffered defeat, and they acknowledged it. They said, in effect, that when we encountered them, we thought, “Every white thing must be fat, and every black thing must be a date,” meaning that we judged them by appearances and assumed they would be like us. But when the actual confrontation took place, the reality was different.

 There is also the famous story of ʿAmr ibn Kulthum. A king asked him to praise him, and ʿAmr ibn Kulthum said, in effect, “First accomplish something worthy of praise, and then I will describe it.” This was not necessarily the case in India. There, you could accomplish nothing and still continue receiving praise; exaggeration would continue.

 I am reminded of Maulana Jami. Jami was a Sufi, a Naqshbandi, and the author of Yusuf and Zulaikha. This book was part of our curriculum. When I was about nine or ten years old, I read the entire Yusuf and Zulaikha. Throughout the whole book, there hardly seems to be a single aspect of Zulaikha that is not praised. You could say that whatever a man knows about his wife, Maulana Jami seems to know about Zulaikha—everything!

 The situation goes so far that one conventional idea of female beauty is that a woman should have a slender waist and broad hips. Fine. But Maulana Jami says that Zulaikha’s waist was thinner than half a hair—take a single hair and divide it into two, and her waist was even thinner than that—while her hips were larger than a mountain! Can you call that eloquence? This is Maulana Jami—a Sufi, a Naqshbandi, a shaykh, a man of a spiritual lineage—and he wrote this book. Anyway, the people of India inherited much of this tradition from Persia and Iran. When Indian poets described their beloved, they went so far as to say, “She does not even have a waist; you cannot tell where to tie the izar [ower garment or cloth wrapped around the waist]!” Obviously, if the waist is thinner than half hair, what could be left? There is practically no waist at all!

 All these things came to be regarded as balāghah, as poetry and eloquence. Maulana Farahi would not accept this conception. His position is that truthfulness must be present. For example, Maulana Farahi discusses the statement: زَيْدٌ كَالْأَسَدِ فِي الشَّجَاعَةِ“Zayd is like a lion in bravery.” What do the traditional scholars of rhetoric generally say? They say: وَجْهُ الشَّبَهِ لَا بُدَّ أَنْ يَكُونَ أَقْوَى فِي الْمُشَبَّهِ بِهِ مِنْهُ فِي الْمُشَبَّهِ

 [Translator’s explanation: The above passage means that Maulana Farāhī is discussing a principle of Arabic rhetoric (balāghah) through the example:

زَيْدٌ كَالْأَسَدِ فِي الشَّجَاعَةِ

“Zayd is like a lion in bravery.”

Here:

• Zayd (زَيْدٌ) is the mushabbah (المشبَّه) — the person being compared.
• The lion (الْأَسَدِ) is the mushabbah bih (المشبَّه به) — the thing to which Zayd is compared.
• Bravery (الشَّجَاعَةِ) is the wajh al-shabah (وجه الشبه) — the quality shared by the two.

The traditional scholars of rhetoric generally state:

وَجْهُ الشَّبَهِ لَا بُدَّ أَنْ يَكُونَ أَقْوَى فِي الْمُشَبَّهِ بِهِ مِنْهُ فِي الْمُشَبَّهِ

“The point of resemblance must necessarily be stronger in the thing to which the comparison is made than in the thing being compared.”

 In simpler terms, the lion must be braver than Zayd for the comparison to work according to this traditional principle. The lion is chosen because bravery is considered more strongly associated with it. The important point is that this is a general principle attributed to traditional rhetoricians, not necessarily a claim that every comparison must work this way in every context. Maulana Farāhī’s discussion likely examines or challenges this conventional understanding.]

 Maulana Farahi’s Point of View:

The quality in respect of which the comparison is being made must be stronger in the mushabbah bih—the thing to which the comparison is made—than in the mushabbah, the person being compared. Maulana Farahi says: This is precisely where the falsehood enters. If a man is not actually like a lion, and you say that he is like a lion, then what are you doing? You are introducing falsehood. You are effectively teaching people to use falsehood. And this fundamental point is not generally understood.

 When the Qurʾān says: اَللّٰہُ نُوۡرُ السَّمٰوٰتِ وَ الۡاَرۡضِ ؕ مَثَلُ نُوۡرِہٖ کَمِشۡکٰوۃٍ “Allah is the Light of the heavens and the earth. The likeness of His light is as a niche…” people have this idea fixed in their minds that the mushabbah bih must possess the quality to a greater degree. So, they think: Allah’s light is the mushabbah, and the mishkāt—a physical, humanly comprehensible object—is the mushabbah bih. Therefore, they reason, the latter must necessarily possess more light. This creates a problem, and people then continue offering different interpretations to resolve it. Maulana Farahi says that is not the purpose of a simile. The fundamental purpose is that you want to bring something true into the mind of the listener in a way that he can understand. What is the purpose of a simile? It is for clarification.

 When you tell a person something that he does not already know, you bring an example from something familiar to him—perhaps from his society, clothing, honey, tea, or something else familiar. In this way, the matter becomes clearer to him. Therefore, with all forms of simile, figurative expression and metaphor, the underlying principle is the same: The statement must be truthful.

 In the madrasas, what is generally taught under Balāghah is Balāghat-o-Adabiyyāt. Earlier, people used to study Mukhtaṣar al-Maʿānī, Faṣāḥah, and so forth. But many of the important discussions that Maulana Farahi subsequently raised are buried beneath all of that. And, to this day, no one has really come forward and demonstrated that Maulana Farahi was wrong. This book is truly remarkable.

 Maulana Farahi’s approach is different. For example, when Imam Ibn Taymiyyah, may Allah have mercy on him, writes, there is a torrent of words: extensive discussion, argument, and detail. Maulana Farahi, on the other hand, is extremely concise. Therefore, to understand his statements and extract the substance of what he is saying, one has to think carefully. That is also why his books are not easy for everyone to understand. This is one of the fundamental reasons why they have not become widely accessible. He wrote Jāmiʿ al-Balāghah, and it really is a remarkable book.

 Oaths in the Qur’an - Maulana Farahi’s Approach:

Similarly, to help people understand the oaths in the Qurʾān, he wrote Imān fī Aqsām al-Qur’ān. This is one book that people were able to understand and accept quite readily.

Maulana Farahi’s position is that when an oath occurs in the Qurʾān, what does an oath actually mean? It means to cite something as a witness—to call something to bear witness. When the Qurʾān says: وَالْعَصْرِ ۝ إِنَّ الْإِنسَانَ لَفِي خُسْرٍ“By Time! Indeed, mankind is surely in loss.” The meaning is that human history and the passage of time bear witness that human beings have always made a losing bargain. A person invests his entire life, and what he ultimately gains is insignificant, while his life continues to slip away. There are, however, some people who have escaped this losing bargain: إِلَّا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا“Except those who believe…”. Just look at ourselves. We spend our time on things, and what we gain in return is often very little. The Qurʾān is therefore telling us that the whole of history stands as a witness.

 Or the Qurʾān says: ن ۚ وَالْقَلَمِ وَمَا يَسْطُرُونَ“Nun. By the pen and what they write.” The pen is a witness. But what does the pen bear witness to? It bears witness to the Prophet: مَا أَنتَ بِنِعْمَةِ رَبِّكَ بِمَجْنُونٍ“By the grace of your Lord, you are not mad.” What does this mean? It means that the pen is being called as a witness. Anyone who knows how to read and write can recognize with certainty that this Book could not have come from a madman. A madman could neither comprehend such a book nor articulate it. Its bearer must necessarily be an intelligent person, a person of character and moral integrity.

 The oaths that occur in the Qurʾān are there for istishhād—for calling something as evidence or witness. This applies to wal-ʿaṣr, wa-sh-shams, waḍ-ḍuḥā, wa-z-zaytūn, and all these other examples. Maulana Farahi developed this idea, and many people subsequently made use of his research.

 The point is that even Maulana Shibli—and Maulana Shibli was a student of Maulana Farahi—used some of Maulana Farahi’s research in Sīrat-un-Nabī. There are several places where the research presented as Shibli’s is actually derived from Maulana Farahi. Take the campaigns of Badr and Uhud. When the Prophet (peace be upon him) set out, the commonly accepted account among the writers of the Prophet’s biography, based on the well-known hadith in Bukhari, is that he initially set out in pursuit of the caravan. Maulana Farahi argued that the Prophet (peace be upon him) had actually set out with the army of Abu Jahl as the intended objective. The caravan had been part of the earlier discussion, but by the time they set out, the decision had been made to confront that army. There were about three hundred and some men in the Muslim force. Had the objective merely been the caravan, a much smaller force would have been sufficient. Maulana Shibli used precisely this line of research in Sīrat-un-Nabī.

 Conclusion:

Similarly, there are many things in the writings of A‘la Hazrat [Maulana Shibli] that derive substantially from Maulana Farahi. There are also many things in the writings of Maulana Maududi, may Allah have mercy on him, that he adopted. The sources are not always explicitly acknowledged, but when a person compares the works, the influence becomes apparent. And there are many other people as well.

 I have mentioned the names of some of these people, but the influence of Maulana Farahi spread widely, including throughout the Arab world. Even Rashid Rida explicitly wrote about this, noting that the kind of approach to Qurʾānic interpretation he had been observing was now appearing here, and some of these works were subsequently published.

 There is so much material in Maulana Farahi’s writings that one could spend months studying and discussing a single one of his books. The truth is that it was a blessing from Allah that a human being with such a short life accomplished so much research in such a limited period.

 Usually, there are people who conduct research into one or two things and then spend the rest of their lives building upon those same things. In universities, many professors specialize in one or two subjects, and after that they become somewhat settled: they become consultants, advisers, supervisors, examine PhD students, and so on, while their own research may become limited.

 But here was a person who left virtually nothing untouched. He researched everything—every subject, every word. He did not say something simply because other people were saying it. He had a fresh approach to almost everything.

 Even the arrangement of the Qurʾān—it is not as though he simply followed the established Damascene tradition. In many places he disagreed with it, and he also presented arguments to explain those disagreements. Sometimes there are things that people consider to be one grammatical or rhetorical category, whereas he treated them differently. There are countless examples of this.

 I myself have been writing about these matters in detail for the last three or four years, and as I encounter more and more examples, I am realizing that Maulana Farahi expressed in a single sentence ideas that other people do not express even in pages and pages of writing. He said profound things in very concise forms.

 However, when Maulana Shibli wrote Sīrat al-Nuʿmān, he greatly praised Imam Abu Hanifa, and at the end he essentially said: “The conclusion is that Abu Hanifa was Abu Hanifa; he was not a prophet.” In the same way, Maulana Farahi was also a human being. Naturally, human beings conduct research. The point is not that anyone’s research should be treated as the final word. But this man taught people how to think.

That is the approach we should adopt: we should think about his ideas, examine them, and engage with them critically. Every person has the right to disagree.

 Look at the students of Imam Abu Hanifa, may Allah have mercy on him. A substantial portion of the jurisprudential tradition differs from Imam Abu Hanifa on various issues. Imam Abu Hanifa never tried to force them to become his followers, nor did his students stop thinking for themselves. Imam Abu Hanifa taught people how to learn and how to think. People subsequently disagreed with him, and that was not a problem.

 Similarly, it was never Maulana Farahi’s objective that people should accept every single one of his conclusions without question. In fact, there was development and evolution in many of his own views. When one reads his annotations, notes, and other writings, one sometimes gets the impression that he initially thought one way and later developed a different understanding.

 For example, the Qurʾān says about Abraham, peace be upon him: إِنَّ إِبْرَاهِيمَ كَانَ أُمَّةً قَانِتًا “Indeed, Abraham was an Ummah, devoutly obedient.” What does Ummah mean here? Maulana Farahi’s interpretations of this are not identical; he expressed different views at different points. What exactly does Ummah mean? I have recently been thinking about this myself. The meaning that has occurred to me is something close to Imam. I thought let us examine its morphological pattern. What is the pattern of Ummah? It is related to lead, to proceed toward, to be an imam. My thought is that perhaps Ummah is an intensive form related to Imam. The Qurʾān says: إِنِّي جَاعِلُكَ لِلنَّاسِ إِمَامًا“Indeed, I am making you an Imam for mankind.” And then Allah says that Abraham was an Ummah—that is, an Imam, devoutly obedient. But Maulana Farahi presented two different points here, separately.

 Thank you very much.

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Arranged by:
Aamir I. Yazdani
MPhil Islamic Thought & Civilization (PAKISTAN)
MSc Irrigation Engineering (UK)