1. Where We Are

We are in Part One of Surah Al-Baqarah, which deals with the types of people. Recall that the division of the surah into parts is not divine — these are scholarly aids to help us navigate the terrain of the surah. At a glance the Quran can seem to move from theme to theme without order, but beneath the surface lies a coherent, beautiful s…

Quran at Home. Each week we take some ayat from the Qur’an. On Tuesday we read them and learn their tajweed. On Thursday we look into their meaning and draw out lessons we can live by.

Where we are in the story

Last week we finished the story of the Aṣḥāb al-Kahf — the people of the cave. Who were they? A group of young men who fled a comfortable life in the city to save their īmān. There was a king, a tyrant, forcing the people to abandon the worship of Allah. So these youth escaped, and Allah made the cave safe and comfortable for them for 309 years.

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When they woke — three centuries later — the first thing on their minds was hunger. Let us send one of us into town for food. But the man who went was dressed in a fashion three hundred years out of date, so a shopkeeper called the palace guards, who arrested him and brought him before the king. And this was a new king altogether — a pious ruler who worshipped Allah and had heard the story of these courageous young men. Curious, he asked to be taken to them. The man led the king and his entourage to the foot of the hill and went up ahead to reassure his friends. And there the story of the cave closes.

The first great lesson of the surah runs through all of it: īmān comes first. That Allah alone is worshipped is our non-negotiable line — a matter of faith we never bargain over. And this is one of the very tests of the Dajjāl, who will come near the end of time claiming to be god, forcing people to worship him. Obey him, and you are promised wealth, comfort, a full stomach. Refuse, and you may have to flee to a cave, away from the luxuries of the world. The Aṣḥāb al-Kahf show us the answer: choose Allah, and Allah will facilitate your affairs. They left the city, and Allah made the cave comfortable — bending the sunlight from their faces, turning them as they slept, placing the dog at the entrance to keep others away. Comfort, safety, and security are with Allah.

The surah still holds four more stories, and this was the first lesson: the test of faith towards the end of time. When you sacrifice everything for Allah, Allah takes care of you.

Ayah 27 — the Qur’an is our cave

وَاتْلُ مَا أُوحِيَ إِلَيْكَ مِن كِتَابِ رَبِّكَ لَا مُبَدِّلَ لِكَلِمَاتِهِ وَلَن تَجِدَ مِن دُونِهِ مُلْتَحَدًا

“And recite what has been revealed to you from the Book of your Lord. There is no changing His words, and you will never find any refuge besides Him.”

Why does this āyah — now recite what has been revealed to you — come immediately after the story of the cave? The mufassirīn mention two things.

First, it is the answer. Remember why the surah was revealed: to answer a challenge from the Quraysh, who had taken their questions from wise men among the People of the Book. They were told that only a true prophet would know this story, so they came and demanded: tell us about the people of the cave. Allah revealed the surah, and its opening is the answer to that first question. And because the story as transmitted through generations of the People of the Book may differ in places from the truth, Allah now says: stand firm. This is the truth. Allah knows what happened. Tell them, and do not worry whether they accept it. Your duty is only to convey — tablīgh, to recite. There is no changing the words of Allah, because this is the word of God Almighty — not fickle like human speech. This is the truth of what happened.

Second — and this is for us. Some of the mufassirīn read it this way: today we do not need to find a cave and hide in it. Our cave is the Qur’an. Now that we know the challenges out there — the trials of faith, the fitnah of the end of time — where do we take refuge? Recite what has been revealed to you. The Qur’an is our cave. It is our protection. And the āyah tells us plainly: you will never find any refuge besides Him — no protection except the protection of Allah, and the best of that protection comes through our attachment to His Book.

So the first shelter from every trial — from the Dajjāl himself — is to attach ourselves to the Qur’an. This is crucial: daily recitation, memorisation, understanding, a life guided by the Qur’an. This is number one.

Ayah 28 — keep good company

وَاصْبِرْ نَفْسَكَ مَعَ الَّذِينَ يَدْعُونَ رَبَّهُم بِالْغَدَاةِ وَالْعَشِيِّ يُرِيدُونَ وَجْهَهُ وَلَا تَعْدُ عَيْنَاكَ عَنْهُمْ تُرِيدُ زِينَةَ الْحَيَاةِ الدُّنْيَا وَلَا تُطِعْ مَنْ أَغْفَلْنَا قَلْبَهُ عَن ذِكْرِنَا وَاتَّبَعَ هَوَاهُ وَكَانَ أَمْرُهُ فُرُطًا

“And keep yourself patiently with those who call upon their Lord morning and evening, seeking His face. Do not turn your eyes away from them, desiring the adornment of worldly life. And do not obey one whose heart We have made heedless of Our remembrance, who follows his desire and whose affair is ever in excess.”

Here is the second protection: surround yourself with good people, good company.Be steadfast with those who worship Allah and call upon Him morning and evening, seeking nothing but His pleasure.

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This term and next, we’re working through Surah al-Kahf. This week: ayat 32 - 36.

If the ayat feel too long to read in one sitting, break them down. Take one small portion and work it until it’s fluent. Then move to the next. Slow is fine. Stopping isn’t. Consistency beats intensity — every time.

Thanks for reading Grounded! This post is public so feel free to share it.

1. About the Text and Its Author

Matn Abī Shujāʿ is a short treatise (not a poem) detailing the rulings of fiqh according to the Shāfiʿī school. The English poem used in class is a translated rendering; the original is prose.

* Author: Aḥmad ibn al-Ḥusayn al-Iṣfahānī, known as Qāḍī Abū Shujāʿ.

* Origin: Isfahan, in Persia (modern Iran).

* Death and burial: He passed away in Madinah and is buried in al-Baqīʿ, the graveyard beside Masjid al-Nabawī.

The first book of the treatise is the Book of Purification (Kitāb al-Ṭahārah). It opens with the seven waters — waters that are fit to purify.

2. The Four Categories of Water

Water is divided into four categories, each with its own ruling.

Category 1 — Muṭlaq (Pure and Purifying)

Muṭlaq water is both pure and purifying. A useful comparison: soap is clean and cleansing — “clean” means it is not dirty, “cleansing” means it can clean something else. In the same way:

* Pure means the water itself is not filth (najis).

* Purifying means it can be used to purify something else.

Muṭlaq water is naturally occurring — it comes either from the sky or from the ground. From it come the seven waters:

* Rain falling from the clouds

* Sea water

* River water

* Well water

* Spring water

* Snow (from mountain summits)

* Hail

Note on tap and bottled water: These are not listed by name, but they are still pure and purifying because they originate from these seven sources — rain collected in a dam, sea water processed through desalination, river water, spring water, or a bore drawn from a well. The summary principle: water that comes from the sky above or from the ground below is naturally occurring, pure, and purifying.

Category 2 — Mushammas (Sun-Heated Water)

Mushammas is water left in a metal container and exposed to intense sun. The metal requirement is essential — water heated in plastic, clay, or other non-metal containers does not become mushammas. It also requires genuine heat: a mild warm day does not qualify, but extreme heat (for example, 40°C+) does.

* Ruling: Still pure and still purifying, but its use is makrūh (disliked).

* Once the water cools, the dislike (karāhah) ends and it returns to muṭlaq.

Category 3 — Mustaʿmal (Used Water)

There are two types of mustaʿmal:

* Water that has already been used for wuḍūʾ or ghusl — it cannot be reused for purification.

* Water mixed with something pure that changes its properties — for example, coffee. It can still be drunk, but it cannot be used for wuḍūʾ.

Ruling: Pure, and may be drunk, but no longer purifying.

Category 4 — Mutanajjis (Impure Water)

Water that has become contaminated — for example, a bird droppings falling into a container of water.

* Ruling: No longer pure and no longer purifying. It may not be drunk, cooked with, or used.

The exception — Two Qullahs: If the water is a large volume — two qullahs, roughly 200 litres — then a small amount of impurity does not affect it. However, if the water’s colour, smell, or taste changes, it becomes mutanajjis regardless of volume.

Illustration: Sea water is far more than two qullahs. But in places where large numbers of animals are killed and the sea water visibly turns red, the change in colour means that water has become mutanajjis — because a defining property has changed.

3. Skins of Dead Animals (Maitah)

Maitah is an animal that dies without being properly slaughtered.

* Base ruling: Maitah is najis — the entire animal, including the meat and the skin.

* The exception (dibāgh / tanning): When the skin is tanned and turned into leather, it becomes pure. This is why leather goods (a belt, a bag, a boot) do not need to be checked for whether the animal was slaughtered — turning skin into leather is itself the tanning that purifies it.

How tanning works: The fat and any parts that would decompose are removed using a sharp tool and treated with acid, chemicals, or certain plants. Once tanned, the skin is no longer najis.

Exception to the exception: Two animals whose skins remain najis even after tanning — the dog and the pig.

Definition of “dog” in fiqh: a canine that barks. This is a precise definition:

* Wolves are canines but do not bark — so they are not classed as dogs here.

* Foxes are canines but do not bark.

* Hyenas do not bark.

* Cats are not canines at all (they are feline).

4. Why This Order? Process and System Thinking

The sequence of chapters is deliberate. Once you have found water, you need a way to carry and store it — and the most common container historically was the leather pouch. So the chapter on water is followed directly by the ruling on skins.

The traditional scholars are training a way of thinking: disciplined, ordered, systematic. We do not think haphazardly; we arrange ideas into a process that is beneficial and useful. This applies well beyond fiqh — it is a life skill.

Example — brainstorming. An undisciplined brainstorm drifts from the actual goal into unrelated tangents. Edward de Bono’s Six Thinking Hats method disciplines the process: you deliberately wear one “hat” at a time (for example, a green hat for all possibilities, then a red hat for risks), each for a set time. Structured thinking is more productive. Reading traditional texts (turāth, meaning “traditional”) trains this same disciplined, step-by-step approach.

5. Bones and Hair

Since the discussion is already about dead animals, the text settles their bones and hair as well — because when you come across a dead animal, you find not only skin but bones and hair too.

* The bones and hair of a maitah are najis. Tanning (dibāgh) cannot be applied to hair, so they remain impure.

* If the animal was properly slaughtered, there is no problem.

* Exception: the remains of a human being. Because God has honoured the children of Adam, that honour extends to human bone and skin — they are not najis.

6. Gold and Silver Vessels

Continuing the theme of containers: some wealthy people would use vessels of gold and silver.

* Ruling: It is not permitted to use vessels made of gold or silver.

* Reason: Gold and silver are a medium of exchange — currency that holds value. Using them as everyday vessels is a sheer display of excess, which Islam discourages.

* Vessels of any other material are permitted.

Bone china: Some of the most expensive plates are made of “bone china” — bone of certain animals crushed and mixed into a fine porcelain. Recall the ruling on bones: if the animal was not slaughtered, it is maitah, and therefore najis.

7. The Siwāk

The Siwāk is anything coarse enough to clean the teeth and mouth — it can be a toothbrush, a cloth, or even a finger. The Prophet ﷺ used a stick from the arāk tree.

Its importance and reward:

* The Prophet ﷺ said that were it not for the fear of making it difficult for his ummah, he would have made the siwāk obligatory — at every wuḍūʾ (in one narration) or at every prayer (in another).

* Oral hygiene is emphasised in Islam. Eating foul-smelling food and then going to the masjid is makrūh; one should clean the mouth first.

* Praying with a siwāk is reported to carry many times the reward of praying without one.

When to use it — general: The siwāk is praiseworthy at every time and everywhere. The Prophet ﷺ would use it before entering his house, so that his family would be comfortable in his company.

Exception — the fasting person: For someone fasting, using the siwāk after midday (around Ẓuhr) is no longer sunnah.

Three times it is especially recommended:

* When the mouth’s odour changes — for example, after being silent for a long time or not having eaten or drunk for a while.

* Upon waking from sleep.

* When rising to pray.

That concludes this lesson. Until next week, in shāʾ Allāh.

We are working through Surah Al-Baqarah, and by now the introduction should be second nature.

* Meaning of the surah: The Female Cow

* Number of ayat: 286

* Place of revelation: Madinah — this is an early Madani surah, one of the earliest revealed after the Hijrah

Surahs are classified by when they were revealed, not simply where:

* Makki — revealed before the Hijrah

* Madani — revealed after the Hijrah. A surah can even be revealed physically in Makkah, but if it came after the Hijrah, it is still Madani.

Virtue of the surah: On the Day of Judgement, Surah Al-Baqarah and its “twin,” Surah Aali ‘Imran, will come like clouds to protect those who used to recite them.

2. The Nine Divisions of the Surah

Surah Al-Baqarah can be organised into nine broad sections:

* Types of people

* First command

* First human

* First nation

* Prophet Ibrahim

* New nation (and all its laws — prayer, fasting, hajj, family, and so on)

* Politics

* Finance

* Conclusion

3. Recap of Category One: The People of Taqwā

* Taqwā = mindfulness of Allah. This definition comes from the well-known exchange involving Ubayy ibn Ka’b and the imagery of walking carefully along a thorny path.

* The traits of the people of taqwā are described in Ayat 2–5.

* The final word of Ayah 5 is al-Muflihūn — “the successful ones.”

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4. Understanding “Success”: Fā’iz vs Muflih

Arabic has more than one word for success, and the distinction matters.

* Fā’iz — the one who wins a competition. There is a single winner; everyone else, however well they did, is not the fā’iz.

* Muflih — comes from the root falāḥ, which we hear every day in the adhan and iqamah: “Ḥayya ‘ala al-falāḥ” (”Come to success”).

The imagery of falāḥ is agricultural — it is the success of a farmer at the point of harvest. This carries two lessons:

* It is not a competition with others. If one farmer harvests 100 kilos and another 200 kilos, both have still had a genuine, good harvest. Everyone can be a muflih by their own effort and criteria. It is a competition with yourself, not with your neighbour.

* It requires delayed gratification. You plant today but do not harvest tomorrow. You nurture the plant and wait, putting in the work in the interim.

5. Delayed Gratification in This World and the Next

Success in the akhirah comes much later — you plant now and harvest then. But the same discipline that earns success in the akhirah also brings success in this world.

* The marshmallow test: children who could wait for a larger reward tended to be more successful later in life; many who could not delay gratification struggled.

* Delayed gratification is what lets a student study now and play later, or read Qur’an now and read for leisure afterwards. Sometimes you have to grind and do the less-fun things in order to succeed.

Taqwā trains this exact characteristic in us.

6. Category Two: Al-Kāfirūn (Ayat 6–7)

Having covered the people of taqwā, we now turn to the second category of people: the kuffār (disbelievers), described in Ayat 6 and 7.

Two Layers of Meaning

Words carry at least two kinds of meaning: a literal meaning and a technical meaning.

Literal meaning: The root kafara means to cover, to bury. Literally, a kāfir can describe a farmer — the one who takes a seed, digs a hole, places it in, and covers it over with soil.

* When the farmer is planting (covering the seed), the action relates to kufr(covering).

* When the farmer is harvesting, that is falāḥ.

This gives us the picture behind the word: a kāfir is someone who receives something good (a seed) and chooses to bury it, cover it, and ignore it — “if I don’t see it, it’s not there.”

Technical Meaning

The technical meaning splits into two:

* Qur’anic meaning — someone who receives something good (guidance, Islam) and deliberately buries and rejects it.

* Fiqhī (legal) meaning — simply a non-Muslim.

7. The Qur’anic Kāfir: Al-Ghazālī’s Conditions

When the Qur’an describes the kāfir being punished in the Fire eternally (khālidīna fīhā), it is not speaking about every single non-Muslim. It refers to a very specific person: one who was properly shown Islam and knowingly rejected it.

Imam al-Ghazālī, in Al-Iqtiṣād fī al-I’tiqād, outlines the conditions for someone to be a kāfir in this Qur’anic, punishment sense:

* He receives the da’wah in a reasonable manner — presented properly and appropriately, not through yelling, insults, or a careless “become Muslim or burn” thrown at someone.

* His doubts and questions are answered.

* He is given time to think and consider.

* After all of this, he still rejects it.

A key point on condition one: in a world where the media so often portrays Islam in a bad light, many people have never genuinely encountered it in a reasonable manner. Simply living near a masjid does not count.

This is why our conduct matters so much as a minority. We are ambassadors of Islam.When a person behaves badly — parking carelessly at the masjid and blocking a neighbour, for example — people don’t blame the individual; they blame “the Muslims” and assume it reflects Islam itself.

8. Fiqhī Definition vs Qur’anic Definition

These two definitions do different jobs:

* The fiqhī definition is black and white. You are either a Muslim or a non-Muslim. A Muslim is someone who affirms the shahādah — belief in Allah and in the finality of Prophet Muhammad ﷺ. It determines legal rights and responsibilities in this world.

* The Qur’anic definition concerns the akhirah and rests on reasonableness — which is subjective and known only to Allah.

A note on the sinful Muslim: a Muslim who does not pray is still a Muslim — a sinful, bad Muslim, but a Muslim — so long as he does not deny that prayer is wājib. Denial of what is clearly obligatory is a different matter from laziness or weakness.

Why the distinction matters in practice

Because reasonableness is subjective, we deal with people according to the fiqhī definition, and we leave the akhirah to Allah according to the Qur’anic definition.

* When a Muslim dies, there are four obligations upon the community: wash, shroud, pray over, and bury.

* For a non-Muslim, this checklist does not apply.

9. What We Cannot Say

We cannot point to any specific individual and declare he is going to the Fire — because we do not know whether al-Ghazālī’s conditions were met, whether his doubts were answered, or whether he accepted Islam at the very end. These are matters of the unseen, left to Allah.

* We may speak in general terms: as a group, those who do not believe in Allah and His Messenger ﷺ will not enter Jannah.

* We may not specify a named individual, because that person may not have met the conditions.

On making du’ā: we may make du’ā for a non-Muslim while they are alive, but once they have passed away as a non-Muslim, we draw the line and do not make du’ā for them. This does not mean we insult or condemn — we remain neutral and respectful.

Two real examples make the point. Telling a grieving friend that his deceased father is “going to Jahannam” is wrong both in manners and in belief. Likewise, when a convert grieving his non-Muslim mother was told at the masjid that “she died a kāfir, she is in the Fire,” that statement was wrong on both counts: disrespectful, and theologically presumptuous, because no one knows her final state.

10. The Only Exceptions

We only declare a specific person to be in the Fire when the Qur’an itself tells us so. The clearest example is Abu Lahab, named in a whole surah as bound for the Fire. Others, such as Fir’aun, are also identified in the Qur’an.

The reverse holds too: we do not guarantee Jannah for any specific person unless the Qur’an states it. In both directions, the final judgement belongs to Allah.

Our real concern should be our own standing before Allah — not passing verdicts on where others will end up.

In shā’ Allah, we continue with Ayat 6–7 next week.

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This term and next, we’re working through Surah al-Kahf. This week: ayat 27 - 31.

If the ayat feel too long to read in one sitting, break them down. Take one small portion and work it until it’s fluent. Then move to the next. Slow is fine. Stopping isn’t. Consistency beats intensity — every time.

Grounded is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

* Meaning of the surah: “The Female Cow.”

* Number of ayat: 286.

* Nickname: The peak (summit) of the Quran.

* Virtue: On the Day of Judgement, Al-Baqarah and Ali Imran will come and shade their companions.

On dividing the surah: We are studying Al-Baqarah in nine parts. This division is a teaching aid created by scholars to help us navigate the surah — it is not divine. The order of the surahs themselves (Al-Baqarah, then Ali Imran) comes from Allah, but splitting a single surah into portions is a human tool. Others divide it into five, twenty, or a different number; none of them are “wrong.”

Part 1 covers the groups of people. We are almost finished with the first group: the people of taqwa.

Ayah 1 — Alif Lam Mim

Three lessons drawn from the opening letters:

* 1. To attract attention.

* 2. A challenge to the Arabs. If you don’t believe the Quran is from Allah, here are the very letters it is built from — produce something like it. After 1400 years the challenge stands unmet. This is not accepted on faith alone; it is historically established, because the height of Arabic eloquence was during the Prophet’s ﷺ time, and no one then could match it.

* 3. A lesson in humility. Humans do not know everything; our intellect has a limit.

Ayah 2 — Guidance for the People of Taqwa

The Quran is guidance for the people of taqwa. This links back to our central dua in Al-Fatihah — Ihdina as-sirat al-mustaqim (”Guide us to the straight path”).

Working definition of taqwa: mindfulness of Allah

Where this definition comes from: the well-known image of walking a path lined with thorns and lifting your garment to avoid being caught. That image was given by the companion Ubay ibn Ka’b, in answer to Umar ibn al-Khattab.

Taqwa is internal — you cannot see it directly — but it shows through certain characteristics, listed in the ayat that follow.

Ayah 3 — Three Characteristics of the People of Taqwa

* 3.1 — Belief in the unseen (al-ghayb).

* 3.2 — Establishing prayer (yuqimuna as-salah).

* 3.3 — Charity: “and from what We have given them, they spend.”

Why “from what We have given them” matters: everything we own comes from Allah. Allah is Al-Ghani, the Most Rich, who owns everything. If you spend the way He asks, He can give you more — His wealth is unlimited and does not run out. The Prophet ﷺ said the one who gives charity will never become poor.

⚠ Arabic to verify before publishing: the Arabic for ayah 3 (belief in the unseen, establishing prayer, and spending) arrived with encoding errors in the transcript and has been rendered in English only. Paste in clean Arabic if you want it displayed.

Ayah 4 — Belief in Revelation

Two further characteristics:

* Belief in what was sent down to you — the Quran.

* Belief in what was sent down before you — the previous scriptures.

The previous scriptures

Four scriptures total, including the Quran — so three before the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, in order:

* Tawrah — revealed to Prophet Musa.

* Zabur — revealed to Prophet Dawud.

* Injil — revealed to Prophet Isa.

Understanding the Bible

Living in a globalised world, it helps to understand the landscape of the largest religion, Christianity — close to Islam in numbers. So: which of the three scriptures is the Bible?

None of them, exactly. The Bible is not a single book — it is a collection of books. (The word itself relates to biblio, “book,” as in bibliophile and bibliography.) It contains a changed and combined version of these earlier revelations.

The Bible has two major parts:

* The Old Testament — also known as the Jewish Bible. A Jewish person referring to “the Bible” means only this. Its three major sections are abbreviated Tanakh:

* T — Torah (believed to be what was revealed to Musa).

* N — Nevi’im (the Prophets).

* K — Ketuvim (the Writings). Zabur = Psalms sits here, as a book within this section.

* The New Testament — mainly the Gospels plus letters.

* Four Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. These are gospels according to each name.

* Letters: written by Paul to the early Christian communities (e.g. the Corinthians) — his written guidance in reply to their questions.

Injil = “good news.” “Gospel” also means good news. The Injil we believe in is the Gospel of Isa — which we do not have today. What exists are gospels according to Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John. The first three are called the Synoptic Gospels and broadly agree; John often tells a different story. Historically these were written well after the named figures, in Greek, while Prophet Isa spoke Aramaic — and several authors never met him.

Contrast: the preservation of the Quran

The Quran reaches us in two independent ways that reinforce each other:

* Unbroken chain of transmission. We recite exactly as the Prophet ﷺ recited — including points of articulation and the length of each sound (e.g. reading a madd at two, four, or six harakat). A reciter’s certificate can be traced back through an unbroken chain to the Prophet ﷺ.

* Archaeological evidence. The oldest known Quran manuscript, the Birmingham Quran, held at the University of Birmingham, was carbon-dated (announced 2015) to around the time of the Prophet ﷺ. It reached Birmingham via Iraq during the British occupation and sat unidentified in the archives until a PhD student recognised it.

Side note — early Arabic script. In the Prophet’s ﷺ time Arabic was written without dots or harakat, so words were distinguished by context. A famous (unverifiable) story tells of the governor Hajjaj ibn Yusuf receiving an undotted letter that could read either uqtul (”kill”) or aqbil (”receive”) — prompting the later introduction of dots. Even today dotting isn’t fully standardised: in the Moroccan script, for example, qaf takes a single dot and final noon is written without one.

How we relate to the Bible

We believe in the original Tawrah, Zabur, and Injil as revelation. Regarding the Bible in its modern form, we hold that it contains both truth and questionable material. The Prophet ﷺ guided us: you may narrate from the Israelite sources without sin — neither believing 100% nor rejecting 100%. Where it contradicts the Quran, the Quran is Muhaiminun alaih — it stands over and supersedes the rest, because its authenticity is guaranteed. This does not mean we disrespect the Bible; it still contains revelation from Allah.

Ayah 5 — Certainty in the Akhirah & True Success

The final characteristic: the people of taqwa are certain about the akhirah. Certainty is the operative word — not vague hope, but conviction.

This certainty changes behaviour. If you are sure Allah sees you and that there are real consequences in the akhirah, you act well in public and private alike, whether or not anyone notices — because Allah knows and will compensate.

The akhirah mindset = delayed gratification

We already accept short-term discomfort for long-term reward: you study now (even though games are more fun) to earn good grades, a good job, and a good life later. That is a long-term view. Now scale it up — life on earth is roughly 80–100 years; the akhirah is forever. A smart person accepts a little discomfort now to secure eternal good.

Just as someone serious about becoming a doctor takes biology and prepares deliberately, someone serious about Jannah does the actions that lead there. Saying you want Jannah while doing none of the work is only dreaming.

The Marshmallow Test. In a well-known study, young children were left alone with one marshmallow and told that if they waited about 15 minutes without eating it, they’d get a second. Some ate immediately; some resisted and doubled their reward. Tracked into adulthood, many who couldn’t wait struggled in life, while many who waited did well. The lesson: delayed gratification is a strong predictor of success. A Muslim, trained through prayer and charity to work now for reward later, should find this second nature.

The king in the masjid (an illustrative story, chain unverified). A hooded king prayed Fajr with only a handful of people, then rewarded every person present with a free Hajj. The next morning the masjid overflowed — but the king wasn’t there. The point: people chase instantreward. Prayer trains us for the opposite — to put in the work now and collect later.

The word for “successful”: muflihun

Allah calls these people al-muflihun, the successful — from the root falah. There are other words for success (fawz, fa’izin), but the same root also gives fallah, “farmer.” A farmer is the very picture of delayed gratification: plant, water, and protect the crop now; harvest much later. Placed right after prayer, charity, and belief in the akhirah, the choice of muflihun reminds us again: put in the work now, harvest it in the akhirah.

Summary — Characteristics of the People of Taqwa

* Belief in the unseen.

* Establishing prayer.

* Spending in charity from what Allah has given.

* Belief in the Quran and in the previous scriptures.

* Certainty in the akhirah.

These are the people of guidance, and these are al-muflihun — the truly successful.

Next week: a short continuation, then the second category of people. Come prepared to list the characteristics of the people of taqwa from memory.

Quran at Home. Each week we take some ayat from the Qur’an. On Tuesday we read them and learn their tajweed. On Thursday we look into their meaning and draw out lessons we can live by.

Why Surah al-Kahf

Rasūlullāh ﷺ encouraged us to recite Surah al-Kahf at least once a week. It protects us from the Dajjāl and from the fitnah — the trials and systems — of the Dajjāl. The Dajjāl may not be here yet, but read the surah closely and you will see the signs of what he represents already around us.

If you cannot read the whole surah, read the first ten ayat and the last ten. If you cannot manage that, read the first ten. Better still, memorise the first ten — it is not long, barely a minute or a minute and a half to recite, yet it carries barakah, protection, and a meaning that is profound when you reflect on it.

Grounded is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Where we are in the story

Last week we stopped at ayah 15, with the young men of the cave — the Aṣḥāb al-Kahf. Allah tells us plainly that they were youth: a group of young men who, when the whole village gave up and submitted to the tyrant of the day and worshipped idols, refused. They would not obey the creation in disobedience to the Creator. They held their faith with Allah, and as they were about to flee, they made their duʿāʾ:

رَبَّنَا آتِنَا مِن لَّدُنكَ رَحْمَةً وَهَيِّئْ لَنَا مِنْ أَمْرِنَا رَشَدًا

“Our Lord, grant us mercy from Yourself, and prepare for us right guidance in our affair.”

They asked for two things: raḥmah — mercy, care, protection — directly from Allah; and that Allah would straighten and manage their affairs as they left the city.

Ayah 16 — Allah answers the duʿāʾ

وَإِذِ اعْتَزَلْتُمُوهُمْ وَمَا يَعْبُدُونَ إِلَّا اللَّهَ فَأْوُوا إِلَى الْكَهْفِ يَنشُرْ لَكُمْ رَبُّكُم مِّن رَّحْمَتِهِ وَيُهَيِّئْ لَكُم مِّنْ أَمْرِكُم مِّرْفَقًا

“And when you have withdrawn from them and from what they worship except Allah, retreat to the cave. Your Lord will spread out for you His mercy and make your affair easy for you.”

A few ayat earlier they were speaking to Allah. Now Allah speaks directly to them. Notice the word iʿtazaltumūhum — from ʿuzlah, which is to withdraw, to go on a spiritual retreat. People go on ʿuzlah to focus on reciting or memorising Qur’an, or on their adhkār. Allah is telling them: you have withdrawn from these people and from everything they worship besides Me — now take shelter in the cave.

When you imagine a cave, you imagine a tight, claustrophobic space — a group of young men crammed in with nowhere to go. But Allah says yanshur lakum — He will spread it out, make it wide and comfortable for you. The world sees a crowded, closed space. Allah makes it vast. And He says this comes min raḥmatih, from His mercy — the very thing they had just asked for.

Then yuhayyiʾ lakum min amrikum mirfaqā — and He will make your affair easy for you. They had asked Allah to manage their affairs; Allah answers with mirfaqā. From the same root comes rafīq — a close friend whose company you truly enjoy. It is one of the last words the Prophet ﷺ spoke as he was passing: ilā r-rafīqi l-aʿlā — to the highest companion. Mirfaqā means Allah will make their affairs not merely bearable but comfortable, something they would come to love, so that they would not feel the discomfort of their situation at all.

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The pattern: plan, act, then trust

Look closely at how the duʿāʾ was answered. They made duʿāʾ — and then they moved. They got up and left. Only once they were moving did Allah manage their affairs.

This is the pattern for us. You plan. You take action. You make duʿāʾ and place your trust in Allah. Then you watch how things change. The duʿāʾ is not a substitute for effort, and effort is not a substitute for tawakkul. They come together.

Ayah 17 — the detail of the cave

وَتَرَى الشَّمْسَ إِذَا طَلَعَت تَّزَاوَرُ عَن كَهْفِهِمْ ذَاتَ الْيَمِينِ وَإِذَا غَرَبَت تَّقْرِضُهُمْ ذَاتَ الشِّمَالِ وَهُمْ فِي فَجْوَةٍ مِّنْهُ ذَٰلِكَ مِنْ آيَاتِ اللَّهِ

“You would see the sun, when it rose, inclining away from their cave on the right, and when it set, passing them by on the left, while they were in an open space within it. That is from the signs of Allah.”

This is striking, because in the Qur’an many historical stories are left without detail. Who exactly were the Aṣḥāb al-Kahf? Which city? How old? What were their names? We are not told. All we know is that they were young men. The point is not their biography — the point is: protect your īmān at all costs. But where a detail serves our guidance, Allah spells it out. And here the detail of the cave is spelled out beautifully.

This term and next, we’re working through Surah al-Kahf. This week: ayat 21 - 26.

If the ayat feel too long to read in one sitting, break them down. Take one small portion and work it until it’s fluent. Then move to the next. Slow is fine. Stopping isn’t. Consistency beats intensity — every time.

Grounded is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Tajweed Tuesday is part of our Quran at Home programme. Every Saturday, our students meet in person with their teachers. But Quran learning shouldn’t be bound by madrasah walls, so during term we release two videos a week to support parents teaching at home: Tajweed Tuesday, and Tafseer Thursday.

Thanks for reading Grounded! This post is public so feel free to share it.

Last week we covered the introduction, ayat 1–8. We saw how Allah opens the surah with Alhamdulillah — a practice of gratitude — and directs that gratitude towards the Qur’an itself. Allah corrects those who claim He has a son. Then He moves to the purpose of creation: this world was made beautiful as a test of who among us has the best deeds. Then it is destroyed. Then comes the resurrection.

That last point is where this week begins.

Grounded is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

The problem the Quraysh had

The Quraysh did not struggle with the idea of a Creator. Something cannot come from nothing, and everything around us points to an uncreated Creator. When they were asked who created the heavens and the earth, they would say: Allah.

Their problem was Yawm al-Qiyamah.

Because belief in the Day of Judgement changes how you behave. It changes your priorities. If you believe in God but not in the reckoning, you can do whatever you want — you die, and that is the end of it. The rich and the powerful can steal from the poor, oppress the weak, bomb nations and schools, and walk away from it. If there is no ākhirah, what is there to worry about?

Belief in the ākhirah takes that away. It forces a change.

Ayah 9 — Do you find this the amazing part?

أم حسبت أن أصحاب الكهف والرقيم كانوا من آياتنا عجبا

Do you think that the people of the cave and the inscription were, among Our signs, a wonder?

Al-raqīm means inscription. The story of these young men was carved into stone — as the ancients would inscribe things — and so it survived. It was known among certain Christian communities, which is exactly why the Quraysh used it to test the Prophet ﷺ. Nobody in Makkah knew this story. They had to travel outside the city to find people of the book who could tell it to them.

So Allah puts the question back to them. You accept that a group of young men slept in a cave for centuries and woke up alive — and that you find miraculous. But death and resurrection you cannot accept?

This ayah is not saying the story of the people of the cave is no sign. It is a sign, and a great one. But it is not the greatest. Why is this the thing that excites you, while you ignore what actually matters — that you will die, be resurrected, and be held to account?

Ayah 10 — The duʿāʾ on the way to the cave

إذ أوى الفتية إلى الكهف فقالوا ربنا آتنا من لدنك رحمة وهيئ لنا من أمرنا رشدا

When the youths retreated to the cave and said: our Lord, grant us mercy from Yourself, and prepare for us right guidance in our affair.

Awā means to seek protection — to move behind something and shelter there.

Notice what the Qur’an leaves out. We are not told the city, the town, the house, or the cave. This is how the Qur’an teaches history: it omits what is not relevant to the lesson, because detail distracts. If Allah had named the city, people would argue about the city. What matters is that there was a group of young men.

And Allah highlights that word — fityah. Young men.

We tend to treat the youth as the weakest link in the chain of the ummah. Children come to the masjid because their parents bring them. The elderly come because perhaps there is nothing else. And the youth are absent. Allah is addressing exactly that.

Look at the early followers of the Prophet ﷺ. The Prophet ﷺ was forty; Abu Bakr al-Siddiq رضي الله عنه was around the same age. Those are middle-aged men. But Sayyidina Ali was in his early teens. Zayd ibn Harithah, another young man. Uthman, Zubayr, Talha — teens and early twenties. They were the ones actively carrying the daʿwah.

This term and next, we’re working through Surah al-Kahf. This week: ayat 17 - 20.

If the ayat feel too long to read in one sitting, break them down. Take one small portion and work it until it’s fluent. Then move to the next. Slow is fine. Stopping isn’t. Consistency beats intensity — every time.

Tajweed Tuesday is part of our Quran at Home programme. Every Saturday, our students meet in person with their teachers. But Quran learning shouldn’t be bound by madrasah walls, so during term we release two videos a week to support parents teaching at home: Tajweed Tuesday, and Tafseer Thursday.

Subscribe to our Substack to follow along.

Thanks for reading Grounded! This post is public so feel free to share it.

We are studying Al-Ghayah wa’t-Taqrib, a classical short-form manual of fiqh written by Imam Abu Shuja’. Despite its brevity, this small text has been memorised and studied for close to a thousand years — from Cairo to Java, West Africa to Hadramaut. We are now continuing that same chain of transmission here in Western Australia.

What Is Fiqh?

* Literal meaning: deep understanding

* Technical meaning: ma’rifatul ahkam al-shar’iyyah — knowledge of the rulings of the Shari’ah

* These rulings apply to the af’al al-mukallafin — the actions of a mukallaf, a person legally responsible before Allah

Mukallaf = someone the Shari’ah holds responsible. A child in a car who isn’t wearing a seatbelt isn’t fined — the responsible adult driving is. In the same way, the rulings of fiqh apply to those who are accountable (typically, those who have reached puberty and are of sound mind).

The Five Categories of Rulings (Al-Ahkam al-Khamsah)

Every human action falls under one of five rulings:

1. Wajib (Compulsory)

* Do it → reward. Don’t do it → sin.

* Examples: the five daily prayers, Hajj

2. Mandub / Sunnah (Recommended)

* Do it → reward. Don’t do it → neutral (no sin).

* Examples: washing three times during wudu, the two rak’ahs of sunnah before salah, fasting on Mondays and Thursdays, showering on Fridays

* Important: reward for a sunnah requires intention. Showering on Friday only counts as the sunnah if you intend it — and it must be done on Friday itself, not the day before.

3. Mubah (Permissible)

* Do it → neutral. Don’t do it → neutral.

* Examples: drinking water, eating, reading a book, breathing

* This is the default and largest category. The original ruling of anything is Mubah. To move something out of Mubah into wajib or haram, evidence is required.

4. Makruh (Disliked)

* Do it → neutral. Don’t do it → reward.

* Example: eating with the left hand (for someone able to use their right); eating something smelly like garlic or onions and then going to the masjid

5. Haram (Prohibited)

* Do it → sin. Don’t do it → reward.

* Examples: drinking wine, eating pork

Case Study: Rulings Can Change with New Circumstances

Two examples from the class discussion show how a ruling on the same category of item can shift as knowledge or context changes:

Smoking

Smoking was historically classed as makruh, on the same basis as garlic — an unpleasant smell. Doctors did not originally know with certainty that smoking was harmful to health; some even believed it had a calming effect. It was only in the past century, once it was conclusively established that smoking causes lung cancer, that many scholars reclassified it as haram — because causing harm to oneself is haram, and smoking was now proven to cause serious harm.

Coffee

Coffee has an interesting history in Islamic scholarship:

* Coffee beans were first eaten in Ethiopia before being ground into a drink.

* A Yemeni scholar, Sheikh Ali bin Umar al-Shadhili, repeatedly asked Allah for the strength to pray qiyam al-layl (night prayer) like the pious predecessors. He was inspired in a dream to grind and boil the coffee bean. It helped him stay awake for dhikr and night prayer — so coffee became strongly linked with worship.

* Imam al-Haddad of Hadramaut said the clinking sound of coffee cups would make shaytan flee — meaning that coffee became associated with gatherings of dhikr.

* As coffee spread to Mecca and beyond, some scholars observed young people becoming very animated after drinking it and grew concerned. Coffee’s Arabic name, qahwa, is also an old word for wine — which added to the suspicion. Some scholars declared it haram.

* The dispute was settled in a memorable way: scholars who held that coffee was haram were invited to a gathering where coffee was served without them knowing what it was. They enjoyed its effects — clarity of mind and energy — and once told it was the very drink they had prohibited, they retracted their ruling.

* Coffee was also banned for a period in parts of the Christian world. Coffee houses later became historically significant as centres of discussion and, in some places, political change — in contrast to pubs, where alcohol limited clear thinking and planning.

Lesson: Mubah is the default of all things. Mubah can shift to wajib (e.g. drinking water becomes obligatory if withholding it endangers life) or to haram (e.g. a permissible game becomes haram if it causes someone to neglect their prayers).

Revision: The Four Types of Water

Before moving on, we revised last week’s material on water, the subject of the first chapter of most fiqh texts — Purification (Tahara).

Why does every fiqh text begin with purification?

Purification of the body mirrors the deeper objective of all worship: purification of the heart. On the Day of Judgement, neither wealth nor children will benefit a person — only a sound heart returned to Allah, and a soul that has been purified rather than corrupted.

The Four Types of Water

* Mutlaq — pure and purifying. Naturally occurring water: rain, sea, river, well, spring, snow, hail (the seven natural waters).

* Mushammas — pure, but disliked (makruh) to use on the skin in specific conditions: water heated by the sun in a metal container in a hot region. It remains makruh only until it cools; a plastic container causes no such concern.

* Musta’mal — previously used water. Still pure and fine to drink, but it has already been used to lift a hadath (in wudu or ghusl) and cannot be used to lift a hadath again. The same applies to water mixed with something pure that changes its taste, smell, or colour (e.g. coffee, soap, lemon) — it stays drinkable, but can no longer be used for wudu or ghusl.

* Mutanajjis — impure water, contaminated by najasah (impurity). Cannot be used for wudu, ghusl, drinking, or washing — unless its volume reaches two qullah (roughly 200 litres), in which case a small amount of najasah does not affect it, provided the water’s colour, smell, or taste has not changed. If it has changed, remove the source of contamination and the water may be purified again.

This Week’s Practice: Polishing the Heart

The Prophet ﷺ said that everything has a polish, and the polish for the heart is dhikr (remembrance of Allah). This week’s homework is to recite the following daily, ideally before sleeping (roughly 10 minutes in total):

* Astaghfirullah al-’Azim (”I seek the forgiveness of Allah, the Most Great”) — 100 times

* Allahumma salli ‘ala Sayyidina Muhammadin wa alihi wa sahbihi wa sallim(sending blessings on the Prophet ﷺ) — 100 times

* La ilaha illallah (”There is no god but Allah”) — 100 times, followed once by Muhammadun Rasulullah (”Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah”)

Students should track which days they complete this, ready to discuss next week.

Key Terms Glossary

* Fiqh — Islamic jurisprudence; knowledge of the rulings of the Shari’ah

* Mukallaf — a person legally responsible/accountable under Shari’ah

* Wajib — compulsory

* Mandub / Sunnah — recommended

* Mubah — permissible/neutral (the default ruling)

* Makruh — disliked

* Haram — prohibited

* Tahara — purification

* Mutlaq water — pure, naturally occurring water that purifies

* Mushammas water — sun-heated water in a metal container (makruh to use on skin while hot)

* Musta’mal water — previously used water; pure but cannot remove hadath again

* Mutanajjis water — water contaminated by impurity (najasah)

* Najasah — ritual impurity

* Qullatayn / two qullah — a measure of water volume (approx. 200 litres) above which small impurities don’t contaminate the water

* Dhikr — remembrance of Allah

Self-Test Questions

* What are the five categories that every human action falls under?

* Give one example each of a wajib act and a mandub act.

* What is the default ruling (the category everything starts in) for any action or object?

* Give one example of something that started as makruh and later became haram, and explain why the ruling changed.

* List the four types of water and give one distinguishing feature of each.

* How much water (in litres) is generally needed for small amounts of najasah not to contaminate it?

* What three phrases of dhikr were set as this week’s homework, and how many times should each be recited?

Last week we set the scene: who the Dajjāl is, and how this Surah protects us from the trials he brings with him. This week we go into the first ten ayat — the portion the Prophet ﷺ told us to hold onto.

We are beginning Surah al-Mulk. Thirty ayat, two and a half pages. If we have memorised it, we can recite the whole surah in under three minutes.

What al-Mulk means

Al-Mulk carries two meanings, and both are correct: kingdom, and dominion. We met the root already in al-Fatihah, at maliki yawmid-din — also recited maaliki yawmid-din. Malik is the king; mulk is the kingdom. So this is the surah of the kingdom.

Makki and Madani

Surahs divide into Makki and Madani — revealed before the Hijrah, or after it.

This is not a division of geography. A Makki surah need not have been revealed in Mecca, and a Madani surah need not have been revealed in Medina. Surah an-Nasr is the clearest case: idha jaa’a nasrullahi wal-fath, revealed in Mecca, about the conquest of Mecca — and counted as Madani, because it came after the Hijrah.

The two categories carry different characters, and we can tell them apart without knowing a word of Arabic.

A Makki surah rhymes. It is poetic in sound before it is anything else. Listen to Juz 30, which is almost entirely Makki — ‘Amma yatasa’alun. ‘Ani-n-naba’i-l-‘azim. Alladhi hum fihi mukhtalifun — there is a metre to it. Easy to recite, beautiful to recite, and harder to understand, because Makki vocabulary is higher-grade and does not recur much elsewhere in the Quran. These are words Arabs today do not use daily.

Madani surahs run to longer ayat, and the meaning is more accessible.

Al-Mulk is Makki. Beyond that we cannot be precise — we rarely know the exact year a surah came down. But the content leans heavily towards warning rather than description of Jannah, and many of the mufassirin read that as late Meccan, when the persecution of the Quraysh had turned violent and stubborn. Early Mecca encourages. When years of encouragement have not moved people, the warning comes.

Grounded is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

What the Makki surahs are for

Two things, mostly.

Aqidah, which covers three areas. Ilahiyat — Allah and His attributes, and the ayat against shirk. Nubuwwat — establishing the truthfulness of the Prophet ﷺ, including the stories of the prophets before him, which follow an almost identical template: a man respected before prophethood receives revelation, begins to preach, and is opposed by the rich and the powerful. And sam‘iyat — what we can hear of but cannot see.

Why do our scholars separate that third category from the first, when we cannot see Allah either? Because the existence of the Creator and the truth of prophethood are established by rational necessity as well as by revelation. There is no equivalent argument establishing that Jannah must exist. What we have is this: reason and revelation together establish that He is our Creator and that He sent revelation to Muhammad ﷺ. So when the Prophet ﷺ tells us there is an Akhirah, we believe him. Everything of the hereafter sits in this category.

Akhlaq is the second, and the kind of conduct the Makki surahs address is the kind we recognise innately, through fitrah.

Some good is known only through revelation — we know salah is good because Allah revealed it. Fasting, the same. But charity needs no revelation to be recognised: receive someone’s charity and we feel it. The same in reverse. Nobody needs to be told stealing is wrong, because even a thief does not like being stolen from. Nobody needs to be told murder is wrong — a murderer will fight for his own life.

The Makki surahs strengthen that innate sense. They return again and again to feeding the poor, honouring the orphan, protecting the weak.

Which leads somewhere worth sitting with. More than sixty percent of the Quran is Makki — and the bulk of the Quran does not legislate. It does not discuss hijab, or Hajj, or the rulings we tend to treat as the measure of religiosity. The bulk of the Quran is about character.

This is why the Prophet ﷺ said: I was sent only to perfect noble character. The Sharia revealed later in Medina strengthens those characters — but the characters themselves were built in Mecca.

So a religious person is not measured by how many raka‘at he prays, though prayer is obligatory. Not by the length of his beard, though the beard is Sunnah. The Prophet ﷺ said the best of us is the one best to his family, and that the best of people are those most beneficial to people. That is akhlaq.

This term and next, we’re working through Surah al-Kahf. This week: ayat 11–16.

If the ayat feel too long to read in one sitting, break them down. Take one small portion and work it until it’s fluent. Then move to the next. Slow is fine. Stopping isn’t. Consistency beats intensity — every time.

Tajweed Tuesday is part of our Quran at Home programme. Every Saturday, our students meet in person with their teachers. But Quran learning shouldn’t be bound by madrasah walls, so during term we release two videos a week to support parents teaching at home: Tajweed Tuesday, and Tafseer Thursday.

Subscribe to our Substack to follow along.

Grounded is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

The surah

* Al-Baqarah means the cow.

* 286 ayat — the longest surah in the Quran.

* Nicknamed the peak of the Quran (Sanam al-Quran).

* Surah Al-Baqarah and Surah Ali Imran are twin surahs. If you read them, study them, memorise them and act on their lessons, they will come on the Day of Judgement as clouds — shade on a day when there is no shade except the shade of Allah.

* The surah has nine parts. We are in Part 1: Types of People.

Ayah 1 — Alif Lam Mim

What does it mean? There is a meaning, but we do not know it. Our answer is: Wallahu a’lam — Allah knows best.

We may not know the meaning, but we can learn the wisdom behind it.

1. It is a surprise call.The Prophet ﷺ was unlettered — he did not read or write. A person who does not read or write does not recite alphabets. So the fact that he recited letters was a surprise in itself.

There is a second surprise. Listen to Arabs speaking their own language — they do not speak in tajweed. But the Prophet ﷺ recited Alif Lam Mim with full tajweed rules. A strange combination of letters, recited in a way no one spoke. It caught the audience’s attention immediately.

2. It is a challenge.Poetry was the highest art form of the Arabs at that time. When the Quran came, they refused to accept it was from God — they said Muhammad ﷺ made it up, or learned it from somewhere.

So Allah opens with letters: Alif Lam Mim. Alif Lam Ra. Qaf. Ha Mim. Ya Sin. The same alphabet you have. Go and produce something like it.

3. It is a gate of humility.There are things our minds can fully understand, and there are things beyond our minds. Before we can receive guidance, we have to accept that limit.

Example: Why is Fajr two rak’ah, but Dhuhr and Asr are four? Fajr is at a quiet time when you have space; Dhuhr falls in a rushed 20-minute lunch break at school. Why not make them equal? Wallahu a’lam. We obey.

Does “wallahu a’lam” mean we obey blindly? No. We arrive at obedience through reason:

* The universe cannot exist without a creator.

* That creator cannot himself be created — there must be an uncreated Creator.

* A Creator who made a universe this complex and this beautiful must be wise.

* When someone infinitely wiser than you tells you to do something — you do it.

We accept Allah through revelation and through reason. Once that foundation is in place, obedience follows. That is the gate of humility.

And we are still allowed to look for the wisdom. Two rak’ah at Fajr — you are fresh, you do not need much. Four at Dhuhr — you are hungry, tired, and about to become “hangry,” so you stop and reset. Four at Asr — before you carry your work stress home to your family, you offload it onto Allah first. Iyyaka na’budu wa iyyaka nasta’in — You alone we worship, and You alone we ask for help.

Who are we asking? The Creator of everything. Next to Allah, how big is our problem? This is why a person of prayer can walk back to their problem and face it — you are not facing it alone.

Ayah 2

ذَٰلِكَ الْكِتَابُ لَا رَيْبَ ۛ فِيهِ ۛ هُدًى لِّلْمُتَّقِينَ

“That is the Book, no doubt in it, guidance for the people of taqwa.”

* Dhalika — that

* al-Kitab — the Book

* la rayba fihi — no doubt in it

* hudan lil-muttaqin — guidance for the people of taqwa

The link to Al-Fatihah. In Al-Fatihah we made the du’a: Ihdinas-siratal mustaqim — guide us to the straight path. We asked for guidance. Allah answers immediately: the guidance is in this Book.

Guidance for everyone, or only for some? In ayah 185 of this same surah, Allah says the Quran was sent down as guidance for all mankind. Here in ayah 2, it says guidance for the people of taqwa.

The offer is open to everyone. The people of taqwa are the ones who take the offer up.

New Material: What Is Taqwa?

The literal meaning

Taqwa comes from the root waw – qaf – ya, which carries the meaning of protection.

Because taqwa also contains an element of fear, the literal meaning is: protective fear.

Protective fear vs paralysing fear

* Fire in the building. Protective fear: you get out. Paralysing fear: you freeze — or you film it for TikTok.

* Exam next week. Protective fear: you start studying. Paralysing fear: “que sera sera” — you give up.

* The difference. Protective fear moves you to act. Paralysing fear stops you from acting.

Note on the snake example from class: standing still is the correct response to an Australian snake, because they are not hunting us — they bite out of fear when they feel threatened. That is a considered decision, not a freeze.

Fear on its own is not enough. If you find out at 9pm that there is a test tomorrow morning and you decide there is no point trying, you are still afraid — but the fear has paralysed you.

This is why taqwa needs the two wings we studied earlier: fear and love/hope. Without hope you will not move. Taqwa is not just fear — it is fear balanced by love.

What are we protecting ourselves from?

When Allah uses the word taqwa in the Quran, it means: protect yourself from Allah’s anger and His punishment, and move towards His mercy and forgiveness.

In practice: what Allah told you not to do — don’t do it. What Allah told you to do — do it.

Story time: Umar and Ubayy ibn Ka’b

Who is Ubayy ibn Ka’b? One of the Companions the Prophet ﷺ named as the best reciters of the Quran — if you want to hear the Quran as Jibril brought it, listen to these people. When Umar ibn al-Khattab established Taraweeh in congregation, he appointed Ubayy as the first Taraweeh imam. Ubayy recited so long that the Companions would lean on the walls and pillars of the masjid, and the prayer would end just in time for a small meal before Fajr.

The conversation:

Umar ibn al-Khattab asked him, “What is taqwa?”

Ubayy answered with a question: “Have you ever walked through a path full of thorns?”

Umar said, “Yes.”

“How did you do it?”

Umar said, “I would lift my garment and walk carefully.”

Ubayy said: “That is taqwa.”

Arab dress is long and flowing. On a thorny path you gather it in, and you watch every step — so your clothes are not snagged and your feet are not cut.

That is life. Every step, you are aware: Is this bringing me closer to Allah, or further away? Would Allah be pleased with this, or angry?

The technical meaning

Literal meaning = the dictionary meaning.Technical meaning = the meaning in context.

Example: the word site. Literally, a place. Say it to a builder and he means a construction site. Say it to a web developer and she means a website. Same word, different technical meaning depending on context.

So for taqwa:

* Literal: protective fear

* Technical: mindfulness of Allah

Being constantly aware of whether something is beloved to Allah or disliked by Him, and whether a decision takes you towards Him or away from Him.

A person of taqwa will be guided by the Quran, because that is where you find what Allah loves, what He dislikes, what He made obligatory and what He made forbidden.

Ayah 3 — The Signs of Taqwa

Taqwa is in the heart. The Prophet ﷺ said, “At-taqwa ha huna” — taqwa is here — pointing to the chest. You cannot display it. But it produces signs, and the signs can be seen.

الَّذِينَ يُؤْمِنُونَ بِالْغَيْبِ وَيُقِيمُونَ الصَّلَاةَ وَمِمَّا رَزَقْنَاهُمْ يُنفِقُونَ

“Those who believe in the unseen, establish the prayer, and spend out of what We have provided for them.”

1. They believe in the unseen (yu’minuna bil-ghayb)

Every pillar of iman involves something unseen:

* Allah — we cannot see Him.

* Angels — we cannot see them.

* Books — we can hold a mushaf, but we did not see Jibril bring it down. That process is what makes it different from every other book.

* Prophets — the Companions could see Muhammad ﷺ the man. What they could not see was him receiving revelation, and that is what made him a prophet.

* Day of Judgement — not yet seen.

* Divine decree (qadar) — never seen.

Remember the three dimensions of the religion — the what, the why, and the how. Iman is the why: the root system. You do what you do because you believe Allah commanded it.

2. They establish the prayer (yuqimunas-salah)

Belief is invisible. Prayer is what that invisible belief looks like when it comes out.

3. They spend from what Allah has given them (wa mimma razaqnahum yunfiqun)

Not “what they earned” — what We have provided them. The wealth was never theirs to begin with.

Next Week

We continue with the details of ayah 3, and aim to reach ayah 5 — unless our guest speaker joins us, in which case Islamic Studies runs instead.

Key Terms

* Wallahu a’lam — Allah knows best

* Taqwa — literally: protective fear. Technically: mindfulness of Allah

* Muttaqin — the people of taqwa

* Ghayb — the unseen

* Sanam al-Quran — the peak of the Quran

Questions to Test Yourself

* What does Al-Baqarah mean, and how many ayat does it have?

* Give the three wisdoms behind Alif Lam Mim.

* Translate ayah 2 into English.

* What is the difference between protective fear and paralysing fear? Give one example of each.

* What did Ubayy ibn Ka’b compare taqwa to?

* What is the difference between a literal meaning and a technical meaning?

* Name the three traits of the people of taqwa mentioned in ayah 3.

* Why is belief in the Quran still “belief in the unseen” when you can hold a copy in your hands?

This note is a companion to the video. Watch for the full explanation; use this to hold the structure in your mind.

Why this surah matters

Rasulullah ﷺ taught that Surah al-Kahf is our protection from the Dajjāl — the great deceiver who comes as the greatest trial to humanity near the end of time. Every prophet from Nūḥ عليه السلام onward warned their people about him. But because Prophet Muḥammad ﷺ is the last messenger, with no prophet to come after him, he was given something extra: not only the warning and description, but the protection. And that protection is in this surah.

The Dajjāl will be given powers that appear divine — controlling the weather, appearing to raise the dead — until he claims godhood and commands people to worship him: worship me and receive the world’s wealth; refuse and go hungry. Against this, we recite Surah al-Kahf every Friday.

Reciting in Arabic earns the reward (ten ḥasanāt per letter) and the barakah. But the Qur’an was sent as guidance — so understanding the surah adds a further layer of protection. That’s what we’re doing this term.

The reason for revelation (Asbāb al-Nuzūl)

The Quraysh, doubting the Prophet ﷺ, went to the learned People of the Book in Yathrib for questions only a true prophet could answer. They were given three:

* Tell us about the sleepers of the cave

* Tell us about a ruler who reigned from east to west

* Tell us about the soul (the rūḥ)

The Prophet ﷺ said, “Come tomorrow and I’ll answer” — but Jibrīl did not come. Days passed; in some narrations, close to two weeks. The first two answers came in Surah al-Kahf; the third, about the rūḥ, in Surah al-Isrāʾ.

The lesson in the delay: Allah revealed “And never say of anything, ‘I will do that tomorrow,’ except [when adding], ‘if Allah wills.’” The future belongs to Allah — so when we speak of it, we say In shā’ Allāh. And note: In shā’ Allāh has become a polite “no” in much of the Muslim world. That’s a misuse. If you intend to do something, say it and mean it. If you don’t, learn to say no plainly.

The structure: four stories, four tests

The surah’s four main narratives map onto the four tests the Dajjāl will bring — each story teaching us how to survive its test.

1. The Sleepers of the Cave (Aṣḥāb al-Kahf) — the test of FAITHYoung men, some said to be sons of ministers with comfortable lives, commanded to worship idols. The scholars gave up, the leaders gave up — but they chose to flee the city to protect their īmān. Allah preserved them in sleep for 309 years. The lesson: protecting our īmān comes before everything in this world.

2. The Owner of Two Gardens (Ṣāḥib al-Jannatayn) — the test of WEALTHA rich man who assumed there was no ākhirah — this world is all there is. Two reminders: rizq comes from Allah, ar-Razzāq, not from any system or deceiver in this world — so never disobey Allah for worldly gain. And wealth is not a sign of Allah’s love or of success in the ākhirah.

3. Mūsā and al-Khiḍr — the test of KNOWLEDGEMūsā عليه السلام — the greatest prophet to that point, leading the largest ummah, first to receive a scripture — was asked who was most knowledgeable and answered that it was himself. Allah said: no. However knowledgeable you are, there is always someone who knows more — and ultimately, Allah is the Most Knowing. Fitting for our own age, drowning in information.

4. Dhul-Qarnayn — the test of POWERNot his name, but a title. A ruler over a vast empire, east to west, who remained a humble servant of Allah and never turned tyrant. The test: what will you do when Allah gives you power? A pressing question when humanity has never been more powerful.

This week’s practice

Recite Surah al-Kahf this Friday. If you can’t manage the whole surah, recite the first ten and the last ten ayat. If not that, at least the first ten — the ones we’ve been practising since Tajweed Tuesday, so they should be flowing beautifully by now.

See you next Thursday, in shā’ Allāh.

We begin with the first ten ayat. Today’s focus is the Tajweed; the meaning comes Thursday.

A few things we cover in the video:

* Qalqalah — bouncing the qāf, ṭāʾ, bāʾ, jīm, dāl in sukūn. ʿabdihī, yajʿal — a clean bounce, not a spread sound.

* Ikhfāʾ in anzala — the nūn read lightly through the zāy.

* Reading the tanwīn — a slightly misaligned tanwīn signals a merger (Qayyimalliyunzir); a perfectly aligned one is read clear (ajran ḥasanā).

Almost a page, so take it easy. Three ayat today, three tomorrow, three the next day. Consistency beats intensity.

See you Thursday for Tafsir Thursday.

1. The name

Al-Baqarah means the cow.

The surah is named after the account of the Israelites who were commanded to slaughter a cow. This is the only place in the Quran where that account appears.

How surahs are named

* Allah reveals the name directly, and the Prophet ﷺ states it.

* The surah is named after its opening words or letters.

* The surah is named after something unique within it. Surah Alif Lam Mim As-Sajdah takes its name from both its opening letters and the sajdah it contains.

* Some surahs carry more than one name, given by the Companions.

2. Length and nickname

286 ayat — the longest surah in the Quran.

The Prophet ﷺ called it Sanam al-Quran: the peak of the Quran. Note that the nickname is not “the longest.” It is “the peak,” and the image of a mountain explains why.

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A mountain is hard to climb

286 ayat is not Surah Al-Ikhlas. Studying this surah is a climb, and it is meant to be one. The same is true of memorising it: those who complete Al-Baqarah find Ali Imran comparatively easy afterwards, and An-Nisa merely difficult.

A mountain gives you the view

From the summit you see the whole landscape at once. From the top of Al-Baqarah you see the whole shape of the religion, because every subject in Islam is addressed somewhere in this surah.

The limit of the view: from a summit you see the bay, but not the animals moving in it. Al-Baqarah gives the outline of the rulings, not the detail. Marriage and divorce are treated at length in An-Nisa; here they appear in outline. But the detail is difficult to place if the outline has never been seen.

3. The nine parts

* The types of people — ayat 1–20. The Quran is sent as guidance, so the first question is who it is guidance for, and what kinds of human being exist.

* The first command — ayat 21–29. The Quran speaking about itself, and the reason to follow it.

* The first human — ayat 30–39. Prophet Adam.

We began the year not with prayer, but with water.

The book is Matn al-Ghāyah wa al-Taqrīb — “The Goal and the Path” — better known simply as Matn Abī Shujāʿ. Its author was a judge, Qāḍī Abū Shujāʿ Aḥmad b. al-Ḥusayn al-Aṣfahānī, from Isfahan in what is now Iran. He is buried in Madīnah, and by some accounts lived to 160. His friends asked him for something small: the fiqh of the Shāfiʿī school, clearly categorised and numbered, easy enough for a beginner to memorise. He gave them about twenty pages. Those twenty pages have been taught from Cairo to Java, from West Africa to Ḥaḍramawt, for a thousand years.

In the Name of Allah, Most Kind,

The Merciful to heart and mind.

All praise to Him, the Lord of all,

Who answers every humble call.

Peace and blessings without end

On our Master Muḥammad — mercy and light —

Whose guidance turns our darkness bright.

And to his family and companions dear,

And all who hold his guidance near.

A thousand years, or nearly so,

A judge in old Isfahan, you know,

Named Aḥmad — Abū Shujāʿ by fame —

Took up his pen in Allah’s name.

His friends had asked him: “Write us small,

A book a child could learn in all,

That gathers Shāfiʿī’s wise way

On how to fast, to give, to pray.”

He wrote al-Ghāyah wa-l-Taqrīb —

“The Goal and Path” — short, sharp, and deep.

From Cairo’s domes to Java’s shore,

From West Africa’s far door,

From Mecca’s hills to Hadhramaut,

This little book was learned by rote —

Teaching young and teaching old

How to live as Muslims should:

In ṣalāh, in zakāh’s care,

In fasting and the Hajj’s prayer.

And now we try, in English rhyme,

To pass this gift through space and time —

Our turn to hold what others bore,

A thousand years, and now one more.

O Allah, accept this humble try,

Forgive its faults — and hear our cry:

Join us with those who walked before:

The seekers at Your sacred door.

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Where fiqh sits

Everything in Islamic studies goes back to Ḥadīth Jibrīl: islām, īmān, iḥsān.

Islām is what a Muslim must do — the five pillars. Īmān is what a Muslim must believe — the six articles. Iḥsān is what a Muslim must feel: that you worship Allah as though you see Him, and if you cannot see Him, you know that He sees you.

Islām is the body. Īmān begins in the mind and moves to the heart. Iḥsān is heart and soul. Or: īmān is why, islām is what, iḥsān is how you perfect it.

Each dimension became a science. The first became fiqh.

Why we learn through a madhhab

Someone always asks: why not just learn the fiqh of the Prophet ﷺ directly?

That is exactly what we’re doing. Imām al-Shāfiʿī learned from the Tābiʿīn, who learned from the Ṣaḥābah, who learned from the Prophet. He did not invent a new wuḍūʾ. What he provided was structure.

Consider the alternative. How many verses of the Qurʾān discuss wuḍūʾ? Essentially one — Sūrat al-Māʾidah, verse 6. And it tells you to wash your face and arms, wipe your head, wash your feet. It does not tell you what breaks your wuḍūʾ. For that you go to the hadith — of which there are somewhere over fifty thousand. Without a madhhab, you would need to sift all 6,236 verses, then all fifty thousand narrations, then sort every result into obligatory and recommended, yourself, before your next prayer.

A madhhab is a peer-reviewed system for practising the religion. One scholar establishes it; others do independent research and arrive at the same conclusion; they write commentaries, notes, corrections, summaries. It has been running for twelve hundred years. It is not the work of one man.

You can see the review process in the physical shape of the books. A matn — twenty pages, meant for memorising, no verses or hadith in it, just rulings. Then a sharḥ, a commentary, which explains and supplies the evidence: twenty pages becomes two hundred. Then students’ marginal notes are collected into a ḥāshiyah: two hundred becomes two thousand. Then someone says this is too long, and summarises it back down to fifty — and the cycle begins again.

So why water first?

Almost every fiqh book opens with purification, and the reason is simple: the most important act of worship is ṣalāh, and purification is its key. Bad wuḍūʾ, bad prayer. And wuḍūʾ needs water. So we are preparing to pray — by learning about water.

The waters fit to purifyare seven kinds — now learn them by:the rain that falls from clouds above,the rolling sea we’ve come to love,the river’s flow, the well’s deep store,the bubbling spring from earth’s own floor,the melted snow that mountains keep,the hail that falls from heaven’s deep.

Seven — and one way to hold them all: every one of them either falls from the sky or comes out of the ground. Naturally occurring water. Sea water counts. Well water counts. If you are stranded in the Australian Alps, melted snow counts.

Four kinds of water

Muṭlaq — pure, purifying, not disliked. The seven waters, as they naturally are.

Mushammas — sun-heated. Still valid, but disliked:

When sun has warmed it in a potof metal, in a region hot,and used upon the skin, not cloth,then caution stays the prudent’s path.A plastic jug? No harm at all —only metal makes this call.

Note the conditions stacking up: metal, sun, hot climate, on the skin. A plastic bucket in a Perth winter is not mushammas. A metal drum left out in a 43-degree week is. Move it into the shade for half an hour and, on one view, the dislike lifts with the heat.

Mustaʿmal — used, or altered. Water that has already lifted a ḥadath has done its work; it cannot do it twice. You may drink it or water your plants with it. And water mixed with something pure that changes its taste, smell or colour has also left the muṭlaq category: coffee, soap suds, salt water for a mouth ulcer, sugar in a glass. All fine to drink. None of them will do for wuḍūʾ.

Which raises the sea again. Isn’t sea water salty? Yes — but that is how it naturally is, and that is the whole test. Sea water is muṭlaq. Sea water with coffee stirred into it is not.

Mutanajjis — impure:

Fourth — mutanajjis, the impure:When najāsah mixes in, for sureThe water’s blocked from every use —No wudūʾ, ghusl, no drink, no wash.Unless its volume’s truly vast —Two qullahs is the measure passed.About two hundred litres’ storeMeans small najāsah taints no more —Unless its colour, smell, or tasteHas shifted; then the rule’s replaced.Remove the cause, restore the rest,And the water passes again the test.

Two qullahs is five hundred ritl Baghdādī in the classical books — roughly two hundred litres today, though you’ll see 180 and 190 depending on which conversion the author took.

Below that threshold, a single drop of impurity ruins the water. Above it, impurity only ruins it if the taste, smell or colour actually changes. This is why we drink from rivers and make wuḍūʾ from a sea that fish live their whole lives in. Volume.

And in those bays where dolphins are herded and killed until the water runs red — that water is mutanajjis, because the properties have changed. Then the tide comes in, the cause is removed, and the water passes the test again.

That was the whole first lesson: what water is.

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This is the most important surah in our lives. We recite it at least seventeen times a day — and there has to be a reason Allah asks that of us. The whole reason we sit with it is to see how seven short verses, recited so many times that they almost slip past us, are actually a map for how to live.

We began by going back over the verses we’d already covered, because the later ones don’t land without them.

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Bismillah — In the name of Allah

The first thing to notice is that Bismillah isn’t a complete sentence. “In the name of Allah” — and then what? In Arabic this is a shibh jumla, a fragment. The sentence is left open on purpose, and you complete it with your action.

That’s why the Prophet ﷺ said that anything important begun without Bismillah is cut off from blessing. When you say it, you’re invoking Allah’s help before you’ve even started.

From that one word, three things follow.

First, it’s a filter. When you put Allah’s name on something, the wrong things become hard to do. I mentioned the Indonesian sheikh who was asked whether smoking is makruh or haram. He refused to give a fiqhi answer. He simply asked the man: can you say Bismillah before you smoke? The man said no, of course not, it wouldn’t be appropriate. Then you already know the answer. Put a Bismillah in front of a thing, and you find out very quickly what it’s worth.

Second, it’s a mindset. When you do something in the name of someone great, you raise your game. A footballer plays differently for his country than for his local club — the colours change how seriously he takes it. So when a Muslim acts in the name of Allah, he doesn’t do things half-heartedly. The Prophet ﷺ told us Allah loves itqan — excellence, doing a thing to the best of your ability. You see it in the smallest acts, like taking wudu carefully without wasting water, and you see it across the whole of Muslim civilisation. Walk through the old mosques of Andalusia and look at the detail in the calligraphy, the care in every surface. That care begins at Bismillah. Allah is beautiful, and He loves beauty.

Third, it’s our source of barakah. Because we’re invoking Allah’s help, we stay humble when we succeed — we know it was His work through us, not our own greatness — and we stay calm when we fail, knowing there may be something better in it. We’re not euphoric in success or crushed in failure. We did it Bismillah, and we leave the outcome to Him.

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Alhamdulillah — All praise is for Allah

Then comes gratitude — and gratitude, it turns out, is the real engine of human happiness.

There’s a study I keep coming back to, out of UC Berkeley and UC Davis. They took people struggling with depression and split them into groups. One group received nothing. One received medication. One was given gratitude work — every day, write down the things you’re thankful for. After a month, the group that did nothing got worse, the medicated group improved, and the gratitude group improved just as much as the medicated one.

But the follow-up study found something sharper. Gratitude has pillars. To be grateful you need three things: the beneficiary (you, the one receiving), the benefit (the thing itself), and the benefactor (the one who gave it).

When a friend buys you a kebab, all three are obvious — you know exactly who to thank. But who do you thank for good rain on a morning you love? For the parents you didn’t choose? For children born healthy? You had no hand in any of it. The Bureau of Meteorology reports the weather; it doesn’t send it.

This is why, for those who removed God, the gratitude eventually collapses — the mind quietly asks, who am I actually thanking? It’s no accident that the self-help shelves are filling with crystals and auras and the old paganism is creeping back. People are reaching for a power to thank and finding nothing there.

We already have the answer. Alhamdulillah. And the fact that Allah even taught us who to thank is itself a thing to be grateful for — which is why it becomes an endless loop. Alhamdulillah for the Alhamdulillah.

Rabb al-’alamin — Lord of all worlds

So who is this we’re thanking? Allah is Rabb — and Rabb doesn’t just mean Lord. It carries the meaning of nurturing. Not a creator who set the universe running by its own laws and stepped back, but One who creates, sustains, and nurtures every moment. And al-’alamin — everything that exists besides Him.

Then immediately: ar-Rahman, ar-Rahim.

Why mercy again, so soon after Bismillah? Because it isn’t repetition. Imam al-Tabari disliked calling anything in the Qur’an repetition — we repeat ourselves only when we’ve run out of better things to say, and Allah never has. The mercy here is placed deliberately. The word Rabb — Lord, Master — can stir fear; this is a power that can do anything to us and we can do nothing back. So the instant that fear rises, Allah answers it with love. He is not a Lord laying traps so you’ll trip and fall into the fire. Every law He sets is for our benefit, not His — if all eight billion of us turned away tomorrow, it would take nothing from His majesty, and only harm ourselves.

This is the balance the scholars call khawf and raja’, fear and hope. Lean only on hope and you grow careless; lean only on fear and you despair. Rabb al-’alamin and ar-Rahman ar-Rahim, side by side, hold you upright.

Maliki yawm id-din — Master of the Day of Judgment

This verse is read two ways — Malik (King) and Maalik (Owner) — and here is something worth understanding about our recensions. The different readings of the Qur’an don’t contradict each other the way variant manuscripts elsewhere might. They complete each other.

A king and an owner aren’t the same. I own this iPad — I don’t call myself its king. As owner I can use it, lend it, smash it, and no one can question me; I control every detail. But you don’t own a country, you reign over it — a king sets the laws that govern the whole. The owner handles the detail, the king handles the big picture. Allah is both. On that Day He sets every rule — who speaks, who goes where, when it begins — and He holds every single soul down to the smallest detail.

And notice the word din. Allah could have said yawm al-qiyamah. He chose din, which in Arabic is one vowel from dayn — debt. Religion and debt are bound together, because the reason we worship at all is a debt of gratitude we owe Him.

The Prophet ﷺ embodied this. He prayed through the night until his feet swelled, and when Aisha asked why — when Allah had already forgiven him entirely — he answered: should I not be a grateful servant?

That’s the summit. People worship for different reasons. Some out of fear of the Fire — valid. Some to bargain, O Allah, I have an exam — also valid, also sincere. Al-Ghazali called these levels: the slave who obeys out of fear of beating, the merchant who trades. But the highest is the one who worships out of sheer gratitude, moved by love.

An easy way to check where you sit — I use it on myself. Look at how you set your alarm for Fajr. If sunrise is 7:15 and I set it for 7:00, just enough to make the prayer before it’s lost, I’m moving out of fear of missing it. The one moved by gratitude sets it for 5:00 — time for tahajjud, some Qur’an, then Fajr. Same prayer. Very different relationship.

And this debt isn’t only with Allah. The Day of Judgment is the day all debts are settled — including the ones we owe each other. The Prophet ﷺ told us of the true bankrupt: a man who arrives with a mountain of good deeds, sees his scale, thinks he’s bound for Paradise — and then the people he wronged come forward. He cheated me. He hit me. He slandered me. His good deeds are handed out one by one until they run dry, and when they’re gone, their sins are loaded onto him instead. He started rich and ended in ruin.

So al-Fatihah reminds us, seventeen times a day, that everything we do is being counted. This is why the Qur’an says prayer restrains us from indecency — at Fajr you’re reminded twice, at Dhuhr four times, before the day can pull you off course. Maliki yawm id-din. Settle your debts before they’re settled for you.

The turn

Up to here, every verse has been about Allah — describing Him, praising Him from a kind of distance. Then the whole surah pivots.

Iyyaka na’budu wa iyyaka nasta’in — You alone we worship, You alone we ask

In Arabic you’d normally begin with the verb. Allah front-loads iyyaka — “You” — and that inversion is where the word only comes from. It isn’t written in the verse; it’s created by the word order. Only You we worship. Only You we ask. And He says it twice, to drive it home.

Then look at na’budu. We translate it “worship,” and we shrink that to rituals — prayer, fasting, dhikr. But its root means slave. A slave has handed over his freedom; he doesn’t get to say no, not this one. So this is far bigger than the window of prayer. Every part of life — how we work, how we rest, how we treat people, how we entertain ourselves — belongs to Allah.

People hear “slave” and recoil. Translators reach for “servant” instead, and even that’s going out of fashion. But enslaving yourself to Allah is the one freedom that’s real — because we are never as free as we imagine.

Ask a child almost anywhere in the world to recognise the golden arches and they can, often before they can read. They link it to happiness — the happy meal did its work. But be honest: is that the best burger you’ve ever had? Is that the best playground in your city? The parks in Perth are better. We didn’t choose to want it; a marketing machine chose for us.

Or take diamonds. You “need” one to propose — except diamonds are neither rare nor precious. They’re abundant; the scarcity is manufactured. The entire idea was a De Beers campaign from the 1920s, and it reshaped what a whole civilisation believes love requires.

Even right and wrong get sold to us. Things shift from forbidden to acceptable not because the science changed but because someone with deep pockets lobbied hard enough. A hundred years ago, women in Perth dressed almost like Muslim women — high collars, long sleeves, covered ankles. A century later they’re barely clothed, and it’s called freedom. Yet the bikini was designed by a man. How is that liberation?

So iyyaka na’budu hands us a fixed point. Our right and wrong, our values, our whole standard comes from Allah alone — and that’s exactly what makes us stable when everything else is being marketed at us. We reaffirm it seventeen times a day.

And iyyaka nasta’in — only You we ask for help. Of course we ask people for help too. But a believer knows that if someone helps me, the help still came through Allah. When I drink to quench my thirst, it isn’t the water doing it — it’s Allah, using the water as His means. Even so, the Prophet ﷺ told us that whoever doesn’t thank people hasn’t truly thanked Allah. So this isn’t an excuse to skip past gratitude to the person in front of you. Thanking them is part of thanking Him.

Ihdina as-sirat al-mustaqim — Guide us the straight path

Now, finally, we ask for something. And of everything a person could ask the Lord of all worlds for — wealth, relief, rescue — the prayer lands on guidance.

And there’s no “to.” If Allah meant guide us toward the path, the Arabic would include ila. He leaves it out. Professor Quraish Shihab puts it well: if you ask me the way to the musalla, I can point — out the door, left, right, right again. That’s directions, and goodbye. But ihdina sirat al-mustaqim, with no ila, is the other kind — come, let’s go, I’ll walk you there myself. So we’re not asking Allah to show us the path from a distance. We’re asking Him to walk it with us — every step, every decision, sometimes hour by hour.

Then the word sirat itself. Arabic has several words for path — sabil, tariq — but sirat is a wide one. Its root means to swallow something whole; a sirat is broad enough to swallow crowds. This matters. The straight path isn’t a narrow ledge for our group alone. It’s vast. Whoever prays as we pray, faces our qiblah, eats our slaughter — the Prophet ﷺ called that person a Muslim. We can disagree sharply on creed and method and still not expel one another from the path.

And within that one wide road there are subul — lanes. Allah says of those who strive, We will guide them to Our ways — plural. Some people reach Allah most easily through prayer; sunnah prayers come light to them. For others it’s fasting beyond Ramadan, or teaching, or feeding the poor, or caring for orphans and single mothers. Different gifts, different lanes, same road.

Which means I have no business looking down on anyone. I might memorise more Qur’an than the next person and assume I’m above him — when he may be carrying half his community on his back while I spend my time reciting. Allah handed out different talents on purpose. Use yours as your lane to Him, and leave the contempt behind.

The path of those blessed — and the two who lost it

Allah doesn’t leave the path abstract. He names who’s already on it: the path of those You have blessed. Elsewhere He tells us who they are — the prophets, the truthful, the martyrs, the righteous. So this road isn’t some untrodden wilderness we have to hack through. People have walked it ahead of us. Find your heroes among them.

We’re built to follow heroes — it’s why influencers now out-earn the executives of the platforms they post on. So Allah meets that instinct and points it somewhere worthy. We should know our prophets. We should know the siddiqin — Abu Bakr, the certified truthful. The martyrs — Umar and Uthman. The righteous companions, each one.

If our children can name all eleven players on a football team but not the ten companions promised Paradise, something has gone wrong in the home. I’m not against knowing the players — some people can tell you the exact weight of the racquet Federer uses, custom-made, not the commercial one. Fine. But then let’s also know the length and weight of our Prophet’s sword. The more we know our heroes, the more we love them, and the more we want to become like them.

Then the final turn: not the path of those who earned anger, nor of those who went astray. The classical scholars sometimes named specific groups, but I prefer the reading that looks at character — and it ties the whole surah together.

Look back at the seven verses. The opening ones — Bismillah, Alhamdulillah, ar-Rahman ar-Rahim, Maliki yawm id-din — are verses of knowledge. They tell us things. The later ones — only You we worship, guide us — are verses of action. We do something with them.

So the two who lose the path are:

* The one who has knowledge and refuses to act on it — that’s the one who earned anger. He knew and chose not to.

* The one who acts without knowledge — that’s the one astray. All effort, no guidance, lost despite his sincerity.

There’s a hadith — discussed by the scholars, used by al-Mundhiri to spur us — where the angels come first for those who knew the Qur’an and didn’t live it, before the idol-worshippers, and when those people protest, the answer comes: are the one who knew and the one who didn’t know the same? Disobedience out of knowledge is heavier than disobedience out of ignorance.

The complete surah is both together: knowledge and action. You know, and you act on what you know.

Seven verses. And the Prophet ﷺ told us this is a conversation — every time we recite it, Allah answers, line by line:

When you say Alhamdulillahi rabbil ’alamin, Allah says: My servant has praised Me. When you say ar-Rahman ar-Rahim, He says: My servant has glorified Me. And when you say ihdina sirat al-mustaqim, He says: This is for My servant — and for him is what he asked.

That’s the conversation we have with our Lord at least seventeen times a day. Tonight we finally heard the whole of it.

One more thing

At the end of tonight’s class, I opened something I’ve been building for a while.

It’s called Grounded — a way to actually learn the Qur’an you recite, instead of reading a translation once and forgetting it. It follows the same shape as the class itself: you learn an ayah, you recall it, and then you ground it in a daily habit. One ayah a day. About fifteen minutes.

We start, of course, with al-Fatihah — the same surah we’ve just finished.

It’s been in private beta with my own students at Qaswa, who’ve been on it for a while now — competitive enough that some of them stay up at night trying to climb the leaderboard, only to wake up and find they’ve been overtaken. Tonight I opened it to the UWA cohort as the next group in.

If you’re a paid subscriber to this Substack, you’re next in line. I’ll be sending invitations before long, and you’ll be among the first outside these classes to join.

Stay tuned. Next month, a new surah.Here’s the fuller version. Every point gets room to build the way it did in the room, and the app section now places UWA correctly — Qaswa students were already on it, UWA is the second cohort.

Where we left off

Last week we paused at ayah 25, in the middle of a sustained portrait of al-Walīd ibn al-Mughīra — the father of Sayyidunā Khālid ibn al-Walīd, and one of the leading poets of Quraysh.

For all his hostility, al-Walīd could not stay away from the Qur’an. In the dark of the night he would slip out of his house and stand quietly outside the…

Last week we began our journey into Surat Al-Muddathir, and there is something striking about reading it directly after Surat Al-Muzzammil. The two surahs sit beside each other in the Mushaf, and they sit beside each other in meaning. If Al-Muzzammil is about spiritual development, Al-Muddathir is about community development. If Al-Muzzammil is the inward work, Al-Muddathir is the outward call. They complete each other.

Both surahs open with the Prophet ﷺ being addressed by a state, not a name — the wrapped one, the cloaked one. The reason is human and tender. When the Prophet ﷺ first received revelation, he was terrified by his encounter with Jibreel. He rushed home to Khadijah and said, Zammiluni, zammiluni — cover me, cover me. Blanket me. Allah addresses him in that moment of vulnerability, and from that vulnerability calls him to a mission.

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Qum — but this time, to warn

Both surahs contain the command Qum — stand up. In Al-Muzzammil it is Qumi al-layla illa qalila — stand up at night except for a little. Stand up to pray. Stand up to recite the Qur’an. Stand up to do the inward, spiritual work that prepares the heart.

In Al-Muddathir it is something else:

يَا أَيُّهَا الْمُدَّثِّرُ ۝ قُمْ فَأَنذِرْ

O you who are wrapped up, stand up and warn.

Stand up — and warn whom? Your people. Your community. It is not enough that a Muslim is good only to himself, that he believes in Allah and prays and that is it. He sees evil and closes his eyes, keeps quiet. That is not the prophetic mission. The night prayer of Al-Muzzammil exists so that you have the strength to stand up in Al-Muddathir and speak.

You cannot pour out into your community what you have not first received in the quiet of the night.

Five commands for the messenger

After Qum fa-andhir, Allah gives five short, weighty commands. Each is a piece of equipment for anyone carrying the prophetic mission.

1. And your Lord — glorify Him

وَرَبَّكَ فَكَبِّرْ

In Arabic, the verb usually comes before the noun. The natural order would be Fa-kabbir Rabbak. But Allah inverts it: Wa Rabbaka fa-kabbir. Putting your Lord before the verb is not a stylistic accident — it restricts the action. Glorify only Him. Make great none other than Him.

This is a message of tawhid. The prophetic mission begins with La ilaha illa Allah. The Prophet ﷺ was speaking to a community of pagans — there were more than 360 idols around the Ka’ba, one for every day of the year — and the first warning he was told to deliver was this: there is no god but Allah. Glorify only Him.

A few rules surfaced again and again. Heavy Ra after a fatḥah or ḍammah, produced by raising the back of the tongue, never by pouting the lips. Throat letters given their proper place — the kha in khalaqtu, the hamzah in yu’thar. Idghām with ghunnah in mā lam mamdūdā, but iẓhār with no ghunnah at all in in hādhā. Qalqalah on the dāl of adbara, hams on the kāf of wastakbar — a bounce versus a small release of air.

The reminder I keep returning to: ten minutes a day beats one hour once a week. Consistency beats intensity.

See you on Thursday for Tafsīr Thursday, in shā Allāh.

There’s a moment in Hajj most people only think about as a logistical headache — the stoning of the Jamarāt. Crowded, hot, exhausting. You queue up, you throw, you move on.

But behind that act is one of the most instructive scenes in our religion. And it happens to a father and a son, thousands of years before any of us were born.

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Ibrāhīm ﷺ waited decades for a child. He was an old man — the only worshipper of Allāh in his world. Just him, his wife, and his cousin Lūṭ. That was the entire ummah.

He made duʿāʾ. Allāh gave him a son.

And then, as soon as Ismāʿīl reached the age the Qurʾān describes as **بَلَغَ مَعَهُ السَّعْيَ** — old enough to walk with him, work with him, hike with him, that beautiful pre-teenage age where the father is still the hero — Allāh told Ibrāhīm in a dream to slaughter him.

I want you to sit with that for a second.

Not as a young man tested with his own life. As a father, tested with his only son. Allāh wasn’t asking him for everything. Allāh was asking him for the *one thing* most dear to him.

This is the test that meets you in fatherhood. The test of whether Allāh comes before everything — including the people you love most.

Both of them passed. Both submitted. The son said:

> يَا أَبَتِ افْعَلْ مَا تُؤْمَرُ ۖ سَتَجِدُنِي إِن شَاءَ اللَّهُ مِنَ الصَّابِرِينَ

>

> *O my dear father, do as you have been commanded. You will find me, in shāʾ Allāh, among the patient ones.*

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Now here is the part I want you to focus on.

On the way to the slaughter, Iblīs came. And what he whispered wasn’t crude. It was clever. He listed every sacrifice Ibrāhīm had already made: *You were thrown into the fire. You were exiled. You migrated. You circumcised at an old age. Hasn’t Allāh asked enough of you? And now your only son?*

Ibrāhīm ﷺ didn’t argue. He didn’t debate. He didn’t even just make duʿāʾ for protection.

He bent down. He picked up seven pebbles. And he threw them.

*Allāhu Akbar. Allāhu Akbar. Allāhu Akbar.*

Then he moved.

Iblīs came again, at a second spot. Seven more pebbles. *Allāhu Akbar.* He moved again.

Iblīs came a third time. Seven pebbles. *Allāhu Akbar.* And Iblīs left, and didn’t come back.

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Every Hajj, two to three million Muslims re-enact this. We throw stones at three pillars. We say *Allāhu Akbar.* We move on.

But I think most of us don’t realise what we’re commemorating. We’re not just throwing rocks at a symbol of evil. We’re rehearsing a *method*.

**Ibrāhīm didn’t only make duʿāʾ. He picked up stones.**

This is something I think about a lot. We have a tendency, when something is hard, to make duʿāʾ and then sit down. As if duʿāʾ alone is the entire toolkit. As if Allāh wants nothing more from us than our words.

But Allāh gave us hands. He gave us bodies. He gave us pebbles. He wants to see what skin we have in the game. Not just our tongues — our *physicality.* He wants to see us bend down, pick something up, and throw it.

Make duʿāʾ. *And then act.*

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The second thing Ibrāhīm did was even more underrated.

**He moved.**

He didn’t stay at the same spot and keep throwing. He moved to a new location. And then another.

This is huge. Because the lesson is: your environment shapes you. You cannot defeat the whisper of Iblīs while standing in the same place that lets him whisper.

We have a principle in Islam — *al-jārū qabla al-dār.* The neighbour before the house. Look at your neighbourhood before you look at the property. The Prophet ﷺ said a person is on the religion of their closest friend. The one you spend the most time with — that’s who you become.

So when we ask Allāh to protect us from a sin, from a bad habit, from a toxic relationship, from a destructive workplace — and then we go right back into the same room, with the same people, in the same scroll, on the same screen — we are standing where Ibrāhīm refused to stand.

Move. Move your body. Move your house. Move your friendship circle. Move your phone out of the bedroom. If you keep falling asleep when you open the muṣḥaf, don’t read in bed — find a chair, find a desk, have a cup of coffee.

Don’t try to outlast Iblīs from his own territory. Pick up the pebbles, throw, and walk somewhere else.

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Here’s what gives me hope.

Ibrāhīm ﷺ moved *three times.* And then Iblīs left. He didn’t come back.

That’s the promise embedded in this story. If you keep throwing and you keep moving, eventually the whisper gives up and goes looking for someone else. The struggle isn’t infinite. It just feels infinite when you stand still.

And the ending of Ibrāhīm and Ismāʿīl’s story is the ending of every story where someone gives Allāh everything: nobody died. Allāh replaced the sacrifice with a great one. The son lived. The father was honoured. The act was immortalised in our worship until the end of time.

When you put Allāh first — really first, not in a sentimental way but in a *here are my hands, here are my pebbles, here is the room I’m walking out of* kind of way — you don’t lose. Barakah flows through everything you touch.

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So this Dhū al-Ḥijjah, even if you’re not at the Jamarāt this year, take the lesson home with you.

What is your Iblīs whispering at you right now? What’s the pebble you need to pick up? And — this is the harder one — *what is the spot you need to move from?*

Throw. Then move. Throw. Then move.

He gives up before you do.

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*With duʿāʾ for those making Hajj this year, and for those still building toward it.*

This term, Term 2 of 2026, Grounded begins its study of Surah Al-Muddathir. Last term covered Surah Al-Muzzammil, and these two surahs reflect each other in meaning. Before opening the ayat itself, this first session steps back to map the landscape — where Al-Muddathir sits in the early revelation to the Prophet ﷺ, and what each surah was teaching him in sequence.

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The Cave and the Cry for Guidance

At around 35 years old, the Prophet ﷺ began withdrawing from his community into spiritual seclusion. He would travel about five kilometres from Makkah to the cave of Hira, following a pattern set long before him by Ibrahim عليه السلام and his family.

The Makkah he was withdrawing from was a city in moral disrepair. He could see the disease, but could not yet see the cure. So he would isolate himself, reflect, and pray for a way out — not just for himself, but for his people.

When he was 40 years old, the answer came.

The First Revelation: Iqra — Read

The first revelation was the opening five ayat of Surah Al-’Alaq, beginning with the command:

اقْرَأْ — Read.

Pause on what is happening here. The Prophet ﷺ was unlettered. He was sent to a community that was overwhelmingly illiterate — some scholars say you could count on the fingers of both hands the number of people in Makkah at that time who could read and write. And the very first word Allah revealed to this man, in this place, was a command to read.

This was revolutionary in human history.

Before this moment, reading was largely the reserved privilege of the scholarly and the clergy — priests and religious authorities who needed access to scripture. A normal person, even a king, often did not need to read; they had scribes for that. Reading was an elite, ceremonial activity.

Iqra democratised reading. It pulled it out of the temple and the palace and placed it in the hands of every believer. Allah did not first command the Prophet ﷺ to pray, to fast, or to perform Hajj. The first command — to him, and by extension to the Muslim community — was to read.

Muslims have to be readers. This is the first command.

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The Second Revelation: Al-Qalam — The Pen

After this first encounter, the Prophet ﷺ was terrified. He thought he was losing his mind, that he was seeing things, that he had been touched by jinn. He went home and Khadijah رضي الله عنها calmed him down.

Then came Surah Al-Qalam:

ن ۚ وَالْقَلَمِ وَمَا يَسْطُرُونَ

Nun. By the pen and what they write.

The nun is one of the disjointed letters whose meaning only Allah knows. But the rest of the ayah is clear: an oath by the pen and what it writes. The reference is to the pen of the Lawh al-Mahfudh — but the message to humanity is the elevation of writing.

There is a difference of opinion among the scholars about which surah was the second revelation — Al-Qalam, Al-Muzzammil, or Al-Muddathir. The position taken here is that it is Al-Qalam, for two reasons.

First, Surah Al-Qalam contains the ayah:

مَا أَنتَ بِنِعْمَةِ رَبِّكَ بِمَجْنُونٍ

You, by the favour of your Lord, are not mad.

The Prophet ﷺ had just walked away from the cave terrified that he was going crazy. Before any further mission could be loaded onto him, Allah needed to settle his heart: you are not mad. This is real. This is the answer to what you have been asking for.

Second, the message of the pen and what is written sits naturally next to Iqra. First read. Then write. Allah is establishing the foundations of a literate ummah before He establishes anything else.

A Civilisation Built on the Pen

This focus on reading and writing wasn’t just a private spiritual instruction to one man — it shaped a civilisation.

A clear example is the Battle of Talas in 751 CE. When the Muslims defeated the Tang Chinese army, among the prisoners were craftsmen who knew the secret of papermaking. Until that point, paper was a closely guarded Chinese technology. Through those captives, papermaking entered the Muslim world — Samarkand, then Baghdad, then across North Africa and into Andalusia, and from there into the rest of Europe.

The world before mass paper was a world of parchment and scroll — expensive, ceremonial, reserved for royal edicts and palace records. The world after was a world where ordinary people could own books. The intellectual explosion of the Islamic Golden Age — the libraries of Baghdad, the universities of Cordoba, the translation movements — was built on this foundation.

The first command was Iqra. The second oath was by the pen. Acquiring and preserving knowledge isn’t just useful for humanity. It is a religious command.

The Third Revelation: Al-Muzzammil — The One Wrapped Tightly

After reading and writing comes Surah Al-Muzzammil:

يَا أَيُّهَا الْمُزَّمِّلُ ۞ قُمِ اللَّيْلَ إِلَّا قَلِيلًا

O you who is wrapped up. Stand the night, except for a little.

Muzzammil describes someone wrapped tightly in their cloak — the kind of wrapping you reach for when you’re shivering, when you want to be held by your blanket. The Prophet ﷺ had come home shaken, and pulled his cloak tightly around himself.

And in that state, the command came: stand the night.

This is the command for spiritual work. Qiyamul layl. Take the knowledge that has been given to you — iqra, al-qalam — and turn it inward first. Transform yourself before you try to transform anything else.

This is where revelation begins its real work on the believer: not in the marketplace, not in the public square, but at night, alone, standing before Allah.

The Fourth Revelation: Al-Muddathir — The One Covered

And then comes the surah Grounded begins this term:

يَا أَيُّهَا الْمُدَّثِّرُ ۞ قُمْ فَأَنذِرْ

O you who is covered. Stand up and warn.

Muddathir is a softer wrapping than muzzammil. Muzzammil is the tight, terrified wrap of someone shivering. Muddathir is the more relaxed cover — like the blanket you pull over yourself on these cooler autumn nights in Perth, not clutched, just resting on you, comfortable.

And the command this time is different. Qum fa-andhir — stand up and warn your people.

This is community work.

Notice the sequence Allah is teaching:

1. Iqra — read.

2. Al-Qalam — write.

3. Al-Muzzammil — work on yourself in the night.

4. Al-Muddathir — go out and work for your community in the day.

Read and write. Acquire knowledge. Turn that knowledge into self-transformation. Then take that transformed self into the community and contribute.

A good Muslim is not someone who simply sits at home reciting Quran, doing tasbih, doing dhikr, fasting, and isolating from the world. Those things are essential — non-negotiable, in fact. But the next question is always: how does this benefit the rest of creation? What is the contribution to the community?

The Two Cannot Be Separated

There is a tendency to split these two — to treat the spiritual person and the activist as different categories. Islam fuses them.

The Prophet ﷺ taught this fusion in a single hadith, narrated by Abdullah ibn Salam — a Jewish rabbi in Madinah who heard the first lecture and immediately recognised the signs of the final messenger. The Prophet ﷺ said:

يَا أَيُّهَا النَّاسُ، أَفْشُوا السَّلَامَ، وَأَطْعِمُوا الطَّعَامَ، وَصِلُوا الْأَرْحَامَ، وَصَلُّوا بِاللَّيْلِ وَالنَّاسُ نِيَامٌ، تَدْخُلُوا الْجَنَّةَ بِسَلَامٍ.

O people, spread peace, feed the hungry, maintain family ties, and pray at night while people are sleeping — you will enter Paradise in peace.

Look at the structure of that hadith. Three of the four instructions are outward — spread peace, feed people, connect family ties. These are daytime acts, community acts, the work of being among people. Only the last — pray at night while people sleep — is solitary spiritual work.

The day is for community work. The night is for spiritual work. The night recharges the day. The day expresses what the night built.

Spreading peace is tiring. Feeding people is tiring. Holding broken family relationships together is tiring. Where does the motivation come from? It comes from the night — from the extra Quran, the extra dhikr, the ayat of Jannah and Jahannam read in the silence when everyone else is asleep. That motivation then spills out into the next day’s work.

The Maxim of the Scholars

The scholars of this ummah captured this balance in a maxim worth memorising:

Knowledge without practice is like a tree that bears no fruit.

Practice without knowledge is craziness.

A reader who never acts is a barren tree. An actor who never reads is a danger — to himself and to everyone around him.

Surah Al-Muddathir lands precisely here. By the time this revelation comes, the Prophet ﷺ has been told to read, told to write, and told to stand the night and work on himself. Now, finally: stand up and warn your people.

This is where Grounded picks up next week, opening the first ten ayat of Surah Al-Muddathir, إن شاء الله.

This Week’s Take-Home

Audit your own balance this week. Ask honestly:

• Reading and writing — am I taking in knowledge, or has my intake quietly stopped?

• Self-work — what am I doing in the night that no one else sees?

• Community work — what am I doing in the day that benefits people beyond myself?

If three of these are strong and one is empty, that’s the one to start with this week.

See you Tuesday for Tajweed Tuesday, and next Thursday we dive into the surah.

Thanks for reading Grounded! This post is public so feel free to share it.

Welcome back to Tajweed Tuesday! We are back after a long break. This term insha Allah we will be reading Surah al-Muddaththir.

Remember to practice your Quran daily, even if it is only 10 minutes. Consistency always beats intensity. And when practicing remember that, slow is smooth and smooth is fast. Slow down and read smoothly. Only speed up once you are smooth.

The Structure of This Surah

Before we go forward, it helps to see the shape of what we have been reading.

Surah Al-A’raf is a Makki surah. Its primary audience was the Quraysh of Makkah. Its central argument is historical: look at the nations before you. Contrast this with Surah Al-An’am — also Makki, also addressing the Quraysh — but that surah makes its…

Imam Ibn Rajab al-Hanbali mentions that the pious predecessors would spend six months after Ramadan asking Allah to accept their deeds — and the remaining months begging Him to let them witness another one. That’s the rhythm. Gratitude, then longing. Never stagnation.

But the Qur’an gives us something even more precise than that rhythm. It gives us a transition.

In Surah al-Baqarah, the discussion of Ramadan begins at ayah 183 — *kutiba alaykum al-siyam* — and runs through to ayah 187. Then, immediately, in ayah 189, Allah says:

**يَسْأَلُونَكَ عَنِ الْأَهِلَّةِ**

*They ask you about the crescent moons.*

The companions asked Rasulullah ﷺ about the significance of the moon’s phases — crescent to full, waning and returning. Allah answered that the moon exists so that humanity can track time. So we know when a month begins and when it ends. (I understand this topic is sensitive in Perth. We’ll leave that there.)

But then, immediately, Allah connects this to Hajj.

“Qul hiya mawaqitu li al-nas wa al-hajj.”

The crescents are time-markers for people — and for Hajj.

The transition is beautiful. One act of worship ends. The next one begins. No gap. No off-season. The life of a believer is simply moving from one ibadah to the next. The same Lord we worshipped in Ramadan is the same Lord who governs every moment outside of it. Ramadan ending doesn’t mean the haram becomes negotiable again, or the wajib becomes optional. We have a new aim now.

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Now, not everyone can perform Hajj. It’s a mathematical impossibility. Two billion Muslims, roughly two million pilgrimage spots per year — the number has been reduced since COVID. Do the maths. It would take something like 700 years before every Muslim alive today gets a turn. That’s why Hajj is the only pillar where Allah specifies man istata’a ilayhi sabila — for those who are able. Ability is a condition.

But the mindset still applies. The transition from one ibadah to the next is for everyone.

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There are so many dimensions to Hajj worth unpacking. But I want to focus on one moment — a snapshot — from the stoning at the Jamarat.

The backstory is Sayyidina Ibrahim عليه السلام. He was commanded by Allah, through a dream, to sacrifice his only son at that time, Isma’il. And when he told his son — and Allah recorded this exchange in the Qur’an — Isma’il responded with full submission: *ifʿal mā tu’mar* — do as you have been commanded. You will find me among the patient.

But Isma’il set conditions. He said: don’t do it in Makkah, because if I scream, my mother will hear and it will break her heart. And make sure the blade is sharp so it’s quick.

(Side note to the sons in the room: if your father knocks on your door and says he saw a dream about slaughtering you — dial 000. These days, the worst our fathers do is say, “Son, wake up for Fajr.” And even that’s a struggle.)

Father and son walked about five or six kilometres from Makkah to Mina. And at each of the three stations along the way, Iblis appeared. He whispered. He cast doubt. He said: *You’ve done enough. You built the Ka’bah. You migrated from Iraq to Jerusalem to Makkah. You’ve sacrificed so much already. Why this? Just say no.*

At each station, Ibrahim took seven pebbles, threw them in the direction of Iblis — *Allahu Akbar* — and moved on.

After the third station, Iblis left and never came back.

Falamma aslama wa tallahu li al-jabin. When both of them submitted fully — the father resolute, the son’s forehead on the stone — Allah called out. The test was fulfilled. A great sacrifice was sent in Isma’il’s place.

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Thousands of years later, during the Hajj of the Prophet ﷺ — Hajjat al-Wada’ — as he was riding his camel towards the Jamarat, he told Sayyidina Abdullah ibn Abbas: get me some pebbles.

Ibn Abbas picked up pebbles about the size you could flick between your thumb and index finger. Our scholars later said: about the size of a chickpea.

Rasulullah ﷺ took them and said: yes, get more of this size.

And then he addressed the community. He said:

**يَا أَيُّهَا النَّاسُ، إِيَّاكُمْ وَالْغُلُوَّ فِي الدِّينِ**

*O people, beware of extremism in religion. For nations before you were destroyed because of extremism in religion.*

Think about that. This is a moment about picking up a rock. A small, mundane, physical act. But Rasulullah ﷺ saw the teaching opportunity and seized it.

Because it’s easy to go overboard here. You’re reliving what Ibrahim went through. You’re stoning Iblis. A chickpea-sized pebble? That’s not going to cut it. You want to find the nearest cricket club, practice your bowling, and make sure Iblis doesn’t come back next year.

But no. The Prophet ﷺ said: this is the size. Not too big — you’re not hurling rocks. Not too small — you’re not flicking grains of rice. Just right. The balance.

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So where do we draw the line on extremism?

I was speaking to some of the high school students at Qaswa about the practices of our predecessors in Ramadan. Imam al-Shafi’i would complete two full readings of the Qur’an every day during Ramadan — one in the day, one at night. That’s sixty khatam in one month.

The students said: that’s extreme, isn’t it?

I said: well, how do you define extreme?

Let’s pull out our phones. Check the screen time. How many hours on TikTok? How many on Instagram? People are clocking seven, eight, ten hours a day staring at a screen.

Now imagine we could transport Imam al-Shafi’i into 2026. We tell him: Muslims today stare at a glowing rectangle for ten hours a day, getting no benefit, and it’s actually harming them.

He would say: that’s extremely stupid, isn’t it?

So who defines what’s extreme? Rasulullah ﷺ does. Because he is the most balanced of humanity. The mark of this Ummah, as Allah describes it in the Qur’an: ummatan wasata — a balanced nation.

When three companions each decided to push further — one would pray all night and never sleep, one would fast every day and never break it, one would worship and never marry — the Prophet ﷺ said: I am the one with the most taqwa among you. Yet I pray and I sleep. I fast and I break my fast. I worship and I marry. This is my sunnah. Whoever turns away from my sunnah is not from me.

Everything has a right. Your body has a right — good nutrition, good rest. Your family has a right. Allah has a right over you in worship. Giving every aspect its due — that’s balance.

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Let me sketch a few dimensions of this balance.

Balance in belief. Islam respects both revelation and reason. We believe because Allah told us to believe — in Him, in the angels, in the books, in the prophets, in the Last Day, in qadar. These are revelatory matters.

But our tradition also respects the intellect. Look at how Ibrahim عليه السلام argued with his people in Surah al-An’am. He didn’t just say: stop worshipping your idols because Allah says so. He engaged their logic. Idols you carved with your own hands — you made them, and now you bow to them? They don’t speak, don’t benefit you, don’t harm you. Why?

And then the stars. He observed the kawkab — a beautiful star — and said sarcastically: this is my lord? But when it set, he said: I don’t love things that disappear. God can’t be present at some times and absent at others. I need God every moment.

Then the moon appeared, full and bright. He said: this is my lord? But when it set, he said: *if my Lord had not guided me, I would certainly be among those who are astray.*

Notice the shift. In the first argument, Ibrahim used pure logic — God can’t appear and disappear. But in the second, he acknowledged that arriving at the worship of Allah requires revelation. Intellect can deny what is not God. But to know who God is, you need guidance.

Imam al-Ghazali captured this beautifully. He said: revelation is like the sun, and reason is like eyesight. Without the sun, there’s nothing to see. But without eyesight, you can’t appreciate the light. Both together — that’s how you see.

If you rely only on revelation, your faith works fine within a Muslim bubble. The moment it’s challenged from outside, it crumbles. If you rely only on reason, you can conclude that God must exist — but you’ll never arrive at which God, or how to worship Him. Both, hand in hand. Ummatan wasata.

Balance in practice. There are people so focused on the physicality of worship — how to raise the hands, where to place them, how to stand — that they forget the deeper purpose. Prayer isn’t calisthenics. When Allah says aqim al-salah li dhikri — establish prayer to remember Me — He’s pointing to something beyond movement.

Every act of worship in Islam is meant to produce beautiful character. The Prophet ﷺ said: I was only sent to perfect noble character. If the more religious we become, the harsher our behaviour gets — something is broken. The balance is off.

Allah tells us that prayer prevents shamelessness and evil. Yet we see people who pray, and in the same breath they double-park on someone without a care. The same tongue that recites Qur’an goes on to slander. The same hands that move in salah take what doesn’t belong to them.

How? Because the spiritual dimension was missing. If you truly stood before Allah in prayer — before the Creator of the heavens and the earth and everything in between — there has to be an after-effect. If you get called to the CEO’s office and told off, you’ll behave well for at least a few days. Now multiply that. You stood before the Lord of all worlds. You spoke to Him. Surely the effect lingers.

And just as it starts to fade — Dhuhr arrives. Then before it fades again — Asr. Then Maghrib. Then Isha. Then sleep, then Fajr. The cycle continues. This is why prayer stops you from evil. You keep checking in with Allah. You keep reporting back.

But strip away the spiritual dimension, focus only on the mechanics, and it loses its purpose.

On the other hand, there are people who say: my heart is good, I don’t need to pray. As long as I’m kind, the rituals are for other people. But then — who are you actually worshipping? If you abandon what Allah prescribed and follow only your own moral compass, you’re worshipping your own nafs.

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This is the lesson of the chickpea.

One nation before us fell into extremism through legalism — everything became so complicated that they abandoned practice altogether. Another fell through spiritualism — everything was about love, no boundaries, no halal or haram, just accept and you’re saved. The religion dissolved. Nothing was left.

Islam sits in the middle. As Imam al-Ghazali said: khayru al-umur awsatuha — the best of affairs is the middle path.

The Prophet ﷺ reminded us, standing at the Jamarat, pebbles in hand: don’t fall into extremism. The size of a chickpea. Not too much. Not too little. Just right.

May Allah protect us from extremism in religion. May He grant us the strength to live by the Sunnah — balanced in every dimension, following our Prophet ﷺ externally and internally.

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We stopped last week at the story of Prophet Salih. We didn’t finish it. Tonight, inshaAllah, we push through — all the way from Salih to Lut to Shu’aib. Three Prophets, three nations, three types of corruption. And then next week, we begin the long passage on Prophet Musa.

Quick Recap

We’ve been tracing a pattern. Prophet Nuh was the first Prophet to fac…

Ramadan is over, but the tafseer continues. Our aim is to finish Surah Al-A’raf in four weeks — which means we move faster than we did during Ramadan. In Ramadan, we paced the tafseer to match what we were reading in taraweeh each night. Now we push forward.

For those who missed the Ramadan series, all the posts are on Substack at groundeddaily.substack.…

Today is a day of celebration. Today we are happy. Today we are joyous.

But if you look into the global geopolitical events at the moment, it is hard for us to be joyous. It is hard for us to celebrate. Palestinians are still being killed daily, still facing genocide. The Middle East is burning. Iran is under illegal attack by the US and Israel. And now we see yet another part of the region falling into war.

It is hard for us to be joyous, because the Prophet ﷺ said: if you don’t care about this Ummah, you are not from among us.

So how are we to celebrate?

The Boulder in the Darkness

To understand celebration in a time of conflict — when the future looks bleak and it’s easy to fall into despair — I want to take you back 1,442 years.

The Muslims in the nascent city of Madinah, having migrated there only five years earlier, were now under attack by all of Arabia. The largest army the Arabs had ever assembled. The Quraysh from the south. The Ghatafan from the north. The Jews of Khaybar joining the coalition.

The Prophet ﷺ consulted his companions, and Sayyidina Salman al-Farisi suggested a strategy the Persians would use when outnumbered: dig a trench so the enemy cannot breach through.

The Prophet ﷺ accepted the idea and commanded the companions to dig at the most vulnerable point of Madinah. He joined them in the digging. It was winter. It was cold. Food was scarce. They were hungry. They were exhausted. Yet they had to keep digging — for survival.

In the darkness of that trench, they struck a boulder they couldn’t break through. They called the Prophet ﷺ. He came — dusty like everyone else, hungry like all of them. He took the shovel and struck the boulder. A third of it crumbled. A spark flew. He said: Allahu Akbar — I saw the palaces of Yemen. Yemen is given to my Ummah.

He struck again. Another third crumbled. Another spark. Allahu Akbar — I saw the keys of Rome given to the Ummah.

He struck a final time. The boulder shattered completely. Allahu Akbar — I saw the Sassanid Empire given to the Ummah.

In times of darkness — when it is easiest to fall into desperation and give up hope — the Prophet ﷺ inspired the Muslims. He told them there is a bright future for the Ummah. All we need to do is work hard and persevere in the path of Allah ﷻ.

And here is what’s remarkable: the Prophet ﷺ passed away before any of it came true. Yemen had not yet been given. The Sassanid Empire had not yet fallen. Half the Byzantine Empire had not yet come under Muslim rule.

But the companions did not despair. They did not give up because it hadn’t happened yet. They understood that when Allah promises something — lā yukhliful mī’ād — He never breaks His promises. All we need to do is fulfil our part.

The Tried and Tested Recipe

What is our part? Allah tells us in Surah Āl ’Imrān. The secret behind the victory of the Ummah — regardless of number, regardless of material strength — is two things: ṣabr and taqwā.

If you have ṣabr and you have taqwā, Allah will send down thousands of angels to help you.

And in the month of Ramadan, we trained exactly that.

Ṣabr by day. And ṣabr here is not passive patience. It is not sitting quietly and doing nothing. In Arabic, ṣabr carries the meaning of steadfastness, perseverance — staying on the path regardless of how difficult it is, doing the right thing no matter how challenging.

We did that in Ramadan. Allah told us no water, despite 40-degree heat. And this Ramadan, we saw those 40-degree days. We said no to water. We held the course until Maghrib. At 3:30 in the morning, we dragged ourselves up for suhoor, prayed tahajjud, prayed Fajr despite the weight of sleep. That is ṣabr.

Taqwā by night. This is our direct line to Allah ﷻ — where the heart connects to Him in prayer, in tarāwīḥ, in Qur’an, in tahajjud, in adhkār, in du’ā.

These two — ṣabr and taqwā — are a tried and tested recipe for 1,400 years. When the Ummah returns to them, Allah grants victory.

Look at the history. The greatest victories came in Ramadan. Badr — 313 against 1,000 — in Ramadan. The Conquest of Makkah, the Prophet’s greatest political victory — Ramadan. Qādisiyyah, the fall of the Sassanid Empire — Ramadan. The fall of Iskandariyyah at the hands of ’Amr ibn al-’Āṣ — Ramadan.

Victory after victory. Because Ramadan produces the two ingredients Allah asked for.

Celebrate. It’s an Act of Worship.

Islam is a religion that celebrates our fiṭrah. Allah who created us understands our wants, our likes, our nature. He knows we like to eat good food. He knows we like to dress well. He knows we like to be with our families and friends.

So He legislated a day where dressing nicely is rewarded. Eating good food is rewarded. Sharing laughter with loved ones — within the boundaries of the Sharī’ah — is rewarded.

What kind of religion is this? Everything we love, Allah rewards us for it.

The Prophet ﷺ said that one of the most beloved deeds to Allah is to bring happiness to the heart of a believer. When we share happiness, when we cause others to be happy, when we create joy in the community — Allah loves to see that.

And there is no better place to start than with the children. Especially the ones who fasted this year — in the heat, in public schools where their friends had cold drinks and ice cream at recess. They had ṣabr. They held on to their religion. They stood steadfast without wavering.

Today is the day we celebrate them. We put joy in their hearts, smiles on their faces. Spoil them a little. Allah will reward you for it.

The Work Ahead

Today we celebrate our graduation from Ramadan. We stand shoulder to shoulder and declare: Allahu Akbar. God is greater than our worries. Greater than our troubles. Greater than all the problems the Ummah faces.

When we make du’ā, we say: Yā Allah, our problems are big — but You are Allahu Akbar.

The Ummah needs ṣabr. And ṣabr is not passively waiting for miracles, not sitting around hoping angels appear. It is hard work. What do we need to do to strengthen the Ummah? What planning, what skill sets, what community building needs to happen? Let’s do it together.

And at night, we maintain the line — prayer, Qur’an, du’ā, that personal direct relationship with Allah ﷻ. Taqwā.

We ask Allah to accept all our deeds in Ramadan. To grant us ṣabr and taqwā. To make us the people of change who bring glory back to the Ummah. To grant relief to our brothers and sisters who are oppressed everywhere — in Palestine, in Iran, in Lebanon, in Syria, in Yemen, in Sudan, and in every place.

اللهم آمين

Eid Mubarak.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Make full use of it. The best du’a for Laylatul Qadr is Allahumma innaka afuwwun tuhibbul afwa fa’fu anni ya Kareem — O Allah, You are the Pardoner, You love to pardon, so pardon me. Keep returning to it tonight, and especially at suhoor time. Allah mentions in the Quran a special rank for those who make istighfar in the early hours before dawn: wa bil ashari hum yastaghfirun. Some of our scholars would dedicate that time between the sunnah of Fajr and the salah itself entirely to istighfar — a hundred times, quietly, consistently. Do that tonight.

And in your du’a, ask Allah not to make this our last Ramadan. Ask Him to grant us another.

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A few reminders: tomorrow night — Thursday, the eve of Eid — is our potluck iftar at Qaswa House. Doors open at 6pm, iftar around 6:35. Bring a plate to share. The kids will have games and activities, weather permitting. Friday is Eid prayer at MacDougall Park in Como — takbir at 8, prayer at 8:30.

And this tafseer series continues. We will pick up Surah Al-A’raf every Thursday night at Qaswa — Maghrib together, some dhikr, tafseer, then Isha and dinner. 7pm. Starting this coming Thursday. If you want to follow the surah through to the end, come join us.

Hadramaut, Nusantara, and the People of ’Ad

We began the story of Prophet Hud last night. He was sent to the people of ’Ad — a civilisation that lived in Hadramaut, Yemen, not far from the city of Tarim.

Hadramaut holds a special place in the hearts of Malay Muslims. It is the origin of the Hadrami scholars and traders who brought Islam to the Nusantara — the vast Indonesian archipelago. They came not with armies but with akhlaq. They traded honestly. They treated people beautifully. And when people asked why — why are your manners like this, why are you so trustworthy — they would explain: because I follow the teaching of Prophet Muhammad ﷺ. That is how Indonesia became the largest Muslim country in the world without a single Arab army ever setting foot on its soil.

Thousands of years before any of that, ’Ad was there. A people of extraordinary power. Allah says to them in this surah: We increased you in your creation — strength, stature, capacity. They built civilisations. The Quraysh of Makkah knew about them. They took pride in them as ancestors. And so when Allah tells their story in the Quran, He is speaking directly to the Quraysh: this is who you are proud of. Look what happened to them when they rejected their Prophet.

The Message Never Changed — Only the Details

Prophet Hud stood before his people and said: O my people, worship Allah. You have no god other than Him.

The same words as Prophet Nuh. The same words as every prophet before and after. From Adam to Muhammad ﷺ, the core of the message has never changed: La ilaha illallah. Tawheed. Worship only Allah.

But the details of the Sharia — how that worship is expressed, what the laws look like, the specifics of punishment and obligation — those have changed across time. And that is not God changing His mind. That is God being perfectly calibrated to the people He is speaking to.

Every generation is different. The laws of previous nations were stricter, harsher. The tawbah for shirk in the Sharia of Musa, for instance, required death — the only atonement for major sins was the taking of life. Christianity inherited this concept and built the doctrine of atonement around it: the idea that someone must die for sin to be absorbed. Our belief is different — no one carries another’s sin, and Allah does not need anyone to die on His behalf in order to forgive. He is Al-Afuww. He simply pardons. Islam came with the lightest sharia of all the prophetic traditions: even shirk, the gravest of sins, requires only sincere tawbah and the shahada.

Why lighter? Because humans have become softer over time. That is simply true. My mother cycled ten kilometres to school each morning without complaint. My father hunted birds with a slingshot as a child, cooked them himself, and came home with his stomach half full before his parents knew anything about it. Today, children cry when they watch someone slaughter a chicken.

People change. Allah knows this. The Sharia adapts. But the tawheed does not move.

Some things remain constant from Adam to Yawmul Qiyamah: worship Allah alone, honour your parents, maintain good character, care for the orphan and the poor, speak kindly to people. The details of how — the minimum of zakat, the specific forms — may be calibrated to time and place. The principles themselves are eternal.

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Why Hud Said Something Different From Nuh

Here is something small but worth paying attention to.

When Prophet Nuh called his people, he said: I fear for you the punishment of a great day. He had to tell them what was coming — because they had never seen collective divine punishment before. Nuh’s people were the first community to be destroyed. There was no precedent. The warning had to be explicit.

But when Prophet Hud called his people, he said something different: Do you not have taqwa? He did not need to spell out what the punishment looked like. Because the people of ‘Ad still remembered. The great flood was not ancient history to them — it was recent memory, passed down through their ancestors. The story was fresh. All Hud had to do was point to what they already knew: don’t you remember what happened? Are you not afraid?

This is the Quran being precise in a way that rewards attention. The surface looks similar — a prophet calling his people to Tawheed, the elite rejecting him. But the language shifts in exactly the way historical context demands. And when you notice those shifts, as Professor Sayyid Naqib Al-Attas — who passed away just days ago, may Allah grant him the highest Jannah, one of the greatest Muslim thinkers of our age — always said: the Quran is not a book for lazy people. It rewards those who think, who ponder, who are willing to ask why.

Al-Attas spent his life arguing that after colonisation and the fall of the Ottoman Caliphate, Muslims should not paste Islamic varnish over Western philosophical frameworks. He said the answer had to come from within the tradition itself. His work gave birth to institutions like IIUM — the International Islamic University Malaysia — and ISTAC. His book Islam and Secularism remains essential reading for anyone serious about Islamic education and worldview. We lost a giant.

Al-Mala’ — Then and Now

As with Nuh, the first to reject Prophet Hud were al-mala’ — the rich and powerful elite. But there is a subtle and important difference. In the story of Nuh, the Quran simply says al-mala’ min qawmihi — the chiefs of his people rejected him. In the story of Hud, it says al-mala’ alladhina kafaru min qawmihi — the chiefs who disbelieved from his people.

Why the extra qualification? Because not all the chiefs of ’Ad rejected Hud. Some of them believed. The memory of the flood was still close enough that some of the powerful had held on to their fear of Allah. So Allah was precise: it was specifically the disbelieving chiefs who called Hud a fool and a liar — not all of them.

The pattern of al-mala’ rejecting the truth is a constant across every prophet’s story in the Quran. It repeats so often it cannot be coincidence — Allah is drawing our attention to a structural reality of power. The elite benefit from the existing order. A prophet comes and says the order is unjust, that the weak deserve protection, that no one is above accountability. The elite’s wealth and status depend on that order remaining intact. So they fight back.

And the masses, generally, follow whoever is loudest and most visible.

The Prophet ﷺ said that every prophet before prophethood worked as a shepherd. Including him ﷺ. Because you learn people management from managing sheep — you learn how to lead those who follow instinct and momentum, who drift toward whoever is in front of them.

We think we have escaped this. We are in 2026. We have the internet. We have access to every idea in human history. Surely we are not sheep.

And then you walk into a supermarket. Milk and bread — the things almost everyone needs — are placed at the furthest possible corner. You have to walk past everything else to reach them. The placement is not accidental. It is psychologically engineered to make you spend. Children love McDonald’s not because of the food but because that golden arch has been placed in their visual field since before they could speak, associated with happiness, associated with play. We did not choose to love it. We were led there.

The top influencer on Instagram earns more than the CEO of Instagram. The top creator on YouTube earns more than the CEO of YouTube. We have simply replaced the ancient al-mala’ with a new one — one that reaches us through screens instead of town squares, but shapes our choices just as effectively.

This is why La ilaha illallah is not just a statement of theology. It is a declaration of independence. I submit to Allah alone. My thinking is shaped by what Allah has revealed. My standard for acceptance and rejection is not whatever the powerful say, not whatever is trending, not whatever algorithm is currently deciding what I see. It is La ilaha illallah, Muhammadur Rasulullah ﷺ.

That is the only real freedom.

Prophet Hud Responds

The disbelieving chiefs called Hud a fool and a liar. He responded with quiet dignity: O my people, there is no foolishness in me. I am a messenger from Rabbil Alameen — the Lord of the universe.

Every prophet, before prophethood, was known for their intelligence and their beautiful character. The people of ’Ad knew Hud. He was from among them — akhahum Huda, their brother. The accusation of foolishness was not sincere. They knew he was not stupid. They knew he was not lying. They rejected because they did not want what he was calling them toward.

We will continue the story of Prophet Hud next Thursday at Qaswa insha’Allah.

A Final Word Before Eid

Twenty-nine nights. Alhamdulillah.

Whatever we managed this Ramadan — however much or little — we ask Allah to accept it. We ask Him to forgive us for the nights we wasted and to count among our good deeds the nights we tried. We ask Him not to make this our last Ramadan. We ask Him to let us meet the next one with stronger roots, deeper iman, and better character than we had when this one began.

Taqabbalallahu minna wa minkum. May Allah accept from all of us.

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The tafseer of Surah Al-A’raf continues at Qaswa every Thursday night, 7pm. A paid subscription includes the Surah Al-A’raf Study Guide and Workbook.

Night 28. The last taraweeh is tomorrow. It went fast.

A few housekeeping notes: Thursday night — the eve of Eid — we will have a potluck iftar at Qaswa House starting at 6pm, with iftar around 6:35. Bring a plate to share. The kids will have activities while the adults eat. After that we’ll pray Isha together and do takbir to welcome Eid.

Friday is Eid prayer at McDougall Park in Como. Takbir at 8, prayer at 8:30. And yes — since Eid falls on a Friday this year, the question of Jumu’ah comes up. The Shafi’i position is that Jumu’ah remains obligatory for those living in the city. The Hanbali reading gives the option to skip it for those who came from outside the city, but holds that the Imam must still lead it. Since we live in the city and the masjid is not far, I’ll keep my khutbah to 10 minutes and the prayer short so everyone can go and celebrate.

This tafseer series continues after Ramadan on Thursday nights at Qaswa — 7pm, finishing with Isha and dinner around 9 to 9:30. If you want to follow Surah Al-A’raf through to the end, come join us.

Was the Flood Global or Local?

We ended last night at the great flood. Today I want to address the question that comes up every single time I teach this story to kids in Australia.

Were kangaroos on the ark?

And before you smile — it is actually a serious theological question. The Bible says the flood was global and every species of animal was taken two by two. That immediately creates a problem: Australian animals are unique. Kangaroos, wombats, possums, platypuses — they exist nowhere else on earth. How did they get to Prophet Nuh to board the ark? And how did they get back to Australia afterwards without leaving any trace of themselves along the way?

This level of specificity is precisely why many scientifically-minded people struggle with the biblical account. The Bible gives exact dimensions for the ark, an exact timeline, an exact animal count — and when those details collide with scientific and geographical reality, the whole thing becomes very difficult to hold.

The Quran does not work that way. And that difference matters enormously.

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Three Readings

Our scholars hold two broad positions on the flood of Nuh, and I want to offer a third that I find most compelling.

The first position: it was a global flood. The argument rests on the generality of certain Quranic ayat — particularly in Surah Hud — where the language is broad enough to suggest the entire earth. Allah saved Nuh and those with him and destroyed everyone else. “Everyone else” could mean all of humanity everywhere.

The second position: it was a localised flood, specific to the qawm of Prophet Nuh. The theological argument is straightforward — Nuh was sent to his people. The punishment was for their rejection. Why would Allah destroy people in Australia, people in the Americas, people who had never received a messenger and had no idea any of this was happening? That is inconsistent with the divine justice we know from the Quran. Allah does not punish people who were never warned.

The third reading — and this is where it gets interesting — is that the flood was localised geographically, but effectively encompassed all of humanity, because at that point in history, all of humanity lived in roughly the same place.

Anthropological evidence suggests that when we trace humanity back 50,000 to 60,000 years, we find our ancestors concentrated in one region — having migrated out of Africa and settled in and around the Fertile Crescent. At the time of Prophet Nuh, the human race was still young. Its population was geographically concentrated. A great flood in that region could have destroyed virtually all of humanity that existed then — without covering the entire physical globe. And when the Quran says Allah took animals onto the ark, it was not every species on earth. It was the animals of that community. The sheep, the cattle, the camels — the practical animals you would need to rebuild your life after the waters receded. Not giraffes. Not hippos. Not kangaroos.

The Story That Made Me Stop

What makes this third reading extraordinary is the evidence you find when you look at how widely the flood story appears across human cultures — especially cultures that had zero contact with each other.

The Aztecs of Mesoamerica were completely isolated from the Old World until the 15th century. And yet they have a flood story. A man named Coxcox went before the Creator God, complained about the wickedness of his people, and the Creator sent a great flood to cleanse the earth. Coxcox survived on a raft. When the waters began to recede, he sent a bird out — and it returned with signs of land. Identical in structure to the story of Nuh. Same moral arc. Same divine response. Same bird.

And then there is the story from the Kimberley.

Tonight is the 27th night of Ramadan.

By the account of many companions and the opinion of many scholars, the 27th carries the highest probability of being Laylatul Qadr among all the odd nights. There is no guarantee — the Prophet ﷺ told us to hunt through all of the last ten. But if any one night has the strongest case, it is this one.

The companions would dress nicely on this night. Apply perfume. Their wives would wonder — where are you going? And they would say: I am welcoming a very important guest. Because after the passing of the Prophet ﷺ, Jibreel only comes to earth once a year — on the night of Al-Qadr. Tanazzalul mala’ikatu warruh. The angels, led by Jibreel, descend.

And the Prophet ﷺ said: if your eyes could see, on this night there would not be a single empty space on earth. Every spot, every gap, filled by angels. Recording. Witnessing. Think about that. Every angel comes down tonight — and what they record about you is entirely in your hands.

The name Al-Qadr also comes from constriction — qaddara — because the earth, as vast as it is, becomes constricted by the sheer number of angels filling it. And in Surah Dukhan, Allah tells us this is the night when all divine affairs are distributed — the decree for the coming year is announced to the angels. Rizq. Life. Death. The angel of provision gets his list. The angel of death gets his. Every angel receives their assignment for the year ahead.

Think of it like budget night — the night before the Prime Minister tables the budget, if you have something to submit, that is the time to submit it. Between the Luh Mahfuz and the angels receiving their instructions, tonight is when our du’a can be most profound. We make our requests before the roster is handed out.

This is not a precise theological description of how divine decree works — nothing is comparable to Allah. But it helps us feel the weight of what this night is. Make du’a tonight. Make it seriously. And please — make du’a for me and my family as well.

What We Established Last Night

We began the story of Prophet Nuh. He made da’wah for 950 years to the first people in human history to worship idols. The idols started innocently — statues built to commemorate five pious people who had died. Remembrance became veneration. Veneration became worship. Generations passed, the original intent was lost, and what began as tribute ended as shirk.

This is why Islam is strict about statues — not children’s toys, not Superman figures your kids kick around the room, but the veneration of figures, the careful display of them, the collecting of them. The trajectory has been seen before. It doesn’t always end in shirk, but the path that leads there started exactly here. The fiqh rule exists because of history.

A paid subscription includes a free digital copy of the Surah Al-A’raf Study Guide and Workbook.

Da’wah Without Self-Interest

Prophet Nuh stood before his people and said: I fear for you the punishment of a great day.

Not: I want to be your leader. Not: follow me and I will give you power. Not: I have a new system and it will make us great. He was afraid — for them. His da’wah came entirely from love and concern for the people he was sent to.

This is the sunnah of every prophet. And it is the standard for everyone who inherits their work.

If you are teaching Islamic studies, running a halaqah, leading a masjid programme — the moment you stop caring about the people in front of you, the moment it becomes about status or position or income, you have lost the plot. In Australia especially, there is almost nothing to gain materially from Islamic work. In Malaysia, a good hafiz leading taraweeh can earn 30,000 ringgit in a month of Ramadan. Here, you are lucky if the costs are covered. Sometimes the teacher pays out of pocket just to keep things running.

So why do it? Because you care about the akhirah of the people in front of you. Because you are afraid for them, the same way Prophet Nuh was afraid for his people. That is the only motivation that sustains this work.

Al-Mala’ — The Elite Always Push Back

The first people to reject Prophet Nuh were al-mala’ — the rich and powerful elite of his community.

This is not a coincidence. It is a pattern. You will find it in the story of every prophet in the Quran, repeated so consistently that Allah is clearly drawing our attention to it. The rich and powerful elite reject the prophet. Every single time.

Why? Because the prophet brings a new system. And the elite benefit from the existing system. They have built their wealth, their influence, their status within the current order — and now someone is standing up and saying: this order is wrong. You are oppressing the weak. You are exploiting the poor. The system you have constructed for your own benefit is not the system Allah approves of.

Of course they push back. You are clearly misguided. That was what the mala’ of Nuh’s people said. It is what every elite says to every prophet who threatens the status quo.

Prophet Nuh responded: I am not misguided. I am a messenger from the master of the universe. And I am giving you sincere nasiha.

Nasiha — sincere advice. Not paid advice. The Arabic distinction is precise: if you are paid for your advice, you are a mustashar, a consultant. If you give it freely, from care, that is nasiha. The prophets were giving nasiha. Wa ana lakum nasihun amin — a sincere and trustworthy advisor. Unpaid. Uncorrupted. Answerable only to Allah.

Feudalism, Communism, and Why Humans Need Revelation

The pattern of al-mala’ rejecting the truth is not limited to ancient history. It is the pattern of human political organisation without divine guidance.

What did feudalism look like? Kings and courts doing as they pleased. Peasants with no land, no rights, no voice — working someone else’s fields for nothing. The system existed entirely to serve those at the top.

And what was the extreme human response to feudalism? Marx. Communism. Abolish all class structures. Everyone equal. Everyone paid the same regardless of talent, effort, or contribution.

Three nights left after tonight. The hunt for Laylatul Qadr is not over — tonight could be 25th for some people depending on moon sighting. Use every remaining night. Don’t coast.

Night 25. Four nights left after tonight.

Quick announcements: Eid will be this Friday insha’Allah, based on ANIC’s announcement. Qaswa will be praying at MacDougall Park in Como. Takbir starts at 8, prayer at 8:30. Setup is at 7:30 — the more hands the better. Bring a prayer mat or picnic mat, and a plate to share is very much welcome.

Tonight is also a Sunday eve, which means tomorrow is a public holiday. No excuses. Sleep early, wake up at 3am, pray, read Quran, make du’a, do your adhkar. Then sleep after Fajr and sunrise. Use it.

Allah Has Been Making His Case

Before we go forward, let me zoom out for a second.

The passage we’ve been in started at ayah 54. Before that, we had the conversations of Yawmul Qiyamah — the people of Jannah calling out to the people of fire, the people of A’raf watching both sides, the people of fire begging for a drop of water and being turned away. Allah was essentially laying out the map: these are the stations. Jannah. Jahannam. A’raf. Choose one. Pick your lane and start walking.

Then from ayah 54, Allah pivoted. He said: you’ve seen the destinations — now let me tell you who your Lord is. He is the One who created the heavens and earth. The sun, the moon, the stars — all running on His command. And once you know that, He gives you the next step: call on Him. Make du’a. With humility on the outside and fear and hope on the inside.

And now — if that still isn’t enough — He says: look around you.

A paid subscription includes a free digital copy of the Surah Al-A’raf Study Guide and Workbook.

Two Revelations, Both Meant to Be Read

Allah has sent us two books.

The first is masthoor — the written. That’s the Quran. The second is manzoor — the observed. That’s nature. And our scholars tell us that both must be read together. If you read only the Quran and never engage with nature, you’ll be left behind as the world advances — because in the study of nature, properly done, you find your way back to Allah. And if you only engage with nature and ignore the Quran, you’ll have wonder without guidance.

Both. Together. That’s the prescription.

This is why our prayer times are tied to the sun and our fasting is tied to the moon. Islam is the only religion that makes you interact with the physical universe five times a day. But most of us have outsourced that interaction to an app. Which is fine — until two apps give different iftar times and then my WhatsApp fills up with the same question every Ramadan.

Go outside. Look at the horizon. That’s when Maghrib is.

Once in a while, find the Qibla with the stars. In WA, if you look for Orion’s Belt, that’s your east. Know when prayer time starts from the position of the sun. I make every student who comes through my class do this at least once. I don’t know if they remember it years later. But I hope they remember that they looked up at the sky and found their way to Makkah without an app.

Tonight is the 24th night. Eid has been announced — next Friday, insha’Allah. That means 29 nights of Ramadan this year. Which means we have five nights left.

Before anything else — stay out of the arguments about moon sighting. Online or otherwise. This is not the time. There is a hadith that the Prophet ﷺ was once shown the exact night of Laylatul Qadr and was on his way to tell the companions — when he found them arguing among themselves. And Allah caused him to forget it. That knowledge was lifted because of the dispute. Arguments in the community literally cost us Laylatul Qadr. Don’t be that person. Not in these last few nights.

Quick Recap Before We Move Forward

Last night we covered the four adabs of du’a from ayat 55 and 56:

The external two — tadarru’, humility of body and word, and khufya, keeping your voice low and not screaming at Allah. The internal two — khawf, fear that Allah might ignore us the way we’ve been ignoring Him, and tama’, that deep aching hope that He — and only He — can answer.

Both pairs working together. The outside and the inside. The posture and the heart.

And then ayah 56 ends with a statement that stopped us last night: inna rahmatallaahi qaribun minal muhsineen — indeed, the mercy of Allah is near to those who are muhsineen.

We said we’d come back to it. So let’s.

Who Are the Muhsineen?

Ihsan. We go back to Hadith Jibril — the hadith where Jibril came to the Prophet ﷺ in the form of a man and asked him about Islam, then Iman, then Ihsan. And the Prophet ﷺ defined ihsan as: to worship Allah as if you see Him. And if you cannot see Him — know that He sees you.

That feeling of being permanently, completely seen. Not watched in the surveillance sense. Seen in the sense that matters — that Allah knows. That nothing is hidden. That what you do alone in the dark is exactly as real as what you do in front of people.

A person with ihsan finds it hard to misbehave. Because wherever they go, they carry that awareness. They are, if anything, better in private than in public — because they’re not performing for anyone. They are performing only for Allah.

The Prophet ﷺ is the living example. When he led the jama’ah in prayer, he kept it relatively short. He was always conscious of who was behind him — the elderly, mothers, children. He would actually turn and look at the congregation before beginning prayer, taking stock of who was there, adjusting accordingly. When Mu’adh ibn Jabal once led a prayer and launched into a long portion of Surah Al-Baqarah, the Prophet ﷺ pulled him aside after and said: ya Mu’adh, what is this fitna? There are people behind you.

A paid subscription includes a free digital copy of the Surah Al-A’raf Study Guide and Workbook.

But when the Prophet ﷺ prayed alone? Abdullah ibn Abbas narrated that he prayed behind the Prophet ﷺ one night. First raka’ah — Surah Al-Baqarah. Second raka’ah — Surah Ali Imran. Ibn Abbas eventually had to break his wudu, renew it, and come back. The Prophet was still praying. No audience. No performance. That is ihsan.

And then there was the lady of the bukhur. There was a woman at the Prophet’s masjid whose duty was to bring incense and make the masjid smell beautiful. No name recorded. Just her role, quietly, faithfully. One night she passed away. She was washed, shrouded, and buried before Fajr — the companions didn’t want to disturb the Prophet ﷺ over someone they considered insignificant. After Fajr he turned around, noticed she was absent, and asked where she was. They told him. He said: why didn’t you wake me? And then he went to her grave and prayed Salatul Janazah over it.

The cleaner. The incense lady. He noticed. He cared. He went. That is ihsan expressed outward — toward the people around you.

This is the night we’ve been hunting for all year. So do extra. Make lots of du’a. Don’t waste a minute of it.

And as it happens — alhamdulillah — the ayat we reach tonight in Surah Al-A’raf are about du’a itself. About how to make it, what should be in our heart when we make it, and why it is the very heart of all worship. Allah has a way of doing that.

A paid subscription includes a free digital copy of the Surah Al-A’raf Study Guide and Workbook.

Now That You Know Who He Is — Call Him

We spent two nights on ayah 54. We talked about the six stages of creation, about Prof. Jenkins’ framework, about matter and antimatter, about why physicists keep stopping just short of saying “God” — and why that has everything to do with European trauma and nothing to do with the evidence.

The point was this: Allah introduced Himself. He is the one who created the heavens and the earth. The sun, the moon, the stars — all operating under His command. And this matters because now ayah 55 opens with a natural next step.

You know who your Lord is. So call Him.

Ud’u rabbakum tadarru’an wa khufya.

Call your Lord with tadaru’ — with humility — and khufya — quietly.

The Outer and the Inner

Tadaru’ captures two things at once: humility on the outside and humility on the inside. Both. Together.

The external side — your body posture when you make du’a. You don’t stand chest out, arms crossed, making demands. You beg. And the way we beg is with our palms open, raised to the sky. The Prophet ﷺ taught us this. And he said that Allah is — and I want you to sit with this — embarrassed when His servant raises his hands to the sky and then puts them back down empty.

That’s not to say Allah owes us anything. He doesn’t. But it tells you something about how much He loves to hear from us. He is waiting for us to call. He wants us to call. So when we raise our hands, He will not let us lower them without answering.

The Prophet ﷺ when making du’a would look downward — hands raised, gaze lowered. The qibla of salah is the Ka’bah. The qibla of du’a is the sky. But in moments of great need, moments of complete brokenness, he would raise his hands high and look upward. Not demanding. Just — there is no one else. There is nowhere else to turn. Ya Allah.

Then there is khufya — quietly. The companions were once marching and making du’a at the top of their lungs. The Prophet ﷺ told them to bring it down. Your Lord is not deaf. He hears you.

So the outer dimension of du’a: humble posture, lowered voice.

But there is also the inner dimension — and that comes in the next ayah.

What Du’a Feels Like on the Inside

Ayah 56: Khawfan wa tama’an. Make du’a with fear and longing.

We talked about tama’ a few nights ago in the context of the people of A’raf. In Malay it means greedy — but in Arabic it means something different. It means a deep, intense desire for something. You want it so much. So tama’ in du’a means you are making du’a with a genuine ache for it. Not going through the motions. Actually wanting.

And khawf — fear. What are we afraid of? Not that Allah won’t answer. But that we are not worthy of the answer. That we might be arrogant enough to think we’ve earned it. The khawf keeps us humble. It stops du’a from becoming a transaction — Ya Allah, I’ve been to taraweeh 23 nights straight, so now give me what I want, or I’m not coming tomorrow. That is not du’a. That is negotiation.

Khawf and tama’. Fear and hope. These two things together are not just for du’a — they carry us through our entire journey to Allah.

Think about what happens when they get out of balance. If a person only has fear — only reads the ayat of punishment, only thinks about Jahannam, only focuses on their sins — they will break. They’ll reach a point where they think: everything I do is wrong, Allah is going to throw me into the fire anyway, why bother? So they give up. The fear, without hope, destroys.

And if a person only has hope — only focuses on Allah’s mercy, only reads about forgiveness — they get lazy. Why worry about halal and haram? Allah is Ghafurul Rahim. He’ll forgive me. The hope, without fear, makes you complacent.

You need both. Fear reminds you that Allah is Al-Muntaqim — the Avenger, the One who punishes, the One who has full power over Jahannam. Hope reminds you that He is Ghafurul Rahim. And when those two things live in your heart together, you keep moving. You don’t collapse, and you don’t drift.

Du’a Is the Essence of Every Ibadah

Here’s something that might reframe how you see worship.

After spending all of ayah 54 introducing who He is — after all of that — the next instruction Allah gives is not pray. Not fast. Not give zakat. It is: make du’a. Why?

Because the Prophet ﷺ said: al-du’a mukhkhul ibadah — du’a is the marrow of worship. The core. The essence. Every act of worship, properly understood, contains du’a within it.

What is the most important part of salah? The Prophet ﷺ said: there is no salah without Surah Al-Fatiha. So what is Al-Fatiha about? Strip away the opening praises — Alhamdulillahi Rabbil Alameen, Al-Rahman Al-Rahim, Maliki Yawmid-Din — those are the adab. You praise Allah first before you ask. You don’t walk up to someone and say I need five hundred dollars before you’ve even said hello. You warm them up. You acknowledge them. Then you drop the ask. And the ask in Al-Fatiha is one thing: Ihdina As-Sirat Al-Mustaqim. Oh Allah, keep us on the straight path. The entire prayer — seven times in every raka’ah — is that one du’a. Put me back on the path.

And fasting? The Prophet ﷺ said: whoever enters Ramadan and leaves it without their sins being forgiven, Allah curses them. That means the entire month of fasting is one extended du’a: Ya Allah, forgive me. Every hunger pang is that du’a. Every moment of thirst. Every night of taraweeh. All of it is saying: Ya Allah, I am broken, I need You, forgive me.

Al-du’a mukhkhul ibadah. When you understand that, you understand why du’a comes before everything else in this ayah.

Don’t Spread Corruption After the Earth Has Been Set Right

Allah ends ayah 56 with something that reaches far beyond our personal worship: do not spread corruption on earth after it has been set right.

Ba’da islahiha. After its reform. After its repair. The earth has been made good. Don’t undo that.

This is bigger than just don’t harm people. Our responsibility is to all of Allah’s creation — human beings, animals, plants, the water, the land. Allah follows this immediately with the image of wind carrying rain clouds across the sky, dead earth suddenly turning green after winter — that is Allah’s islah. He repairs the earth constantly. Who are we to corrupt what He keeps restoring?

The Prophet ﷺ once saw a companion using excess water while making wudu. He asked him: what is this waste? The companion said: is there waste in wudu? I’m doing ibadah. And the Prophet ﷺ said: yes. Even if you are making wudu in a flowing river.

A flowing river. 1,400 years ago, people could not imagine that human beings would ever have the capacity to destroy something as vast and powerful as a river. And yet here we are — post-industrial revolution, with water undrinkable in country after country, because we corrupted it. The Prophet ﷺ saw it coming. The instruction was already there.

Even at war, Islamic rules of conduct prohibit cutting down trees and burning crops. If we cannot corrupt the environment in war, what is our excuse in times of peace?

Qaribun Min Al-Muhsineen

Allah ends with: indeed the mercy of Allah is near to those who are muhsineen — those who are excellent, those who do ihsan.

We’ll pick this up tomorrow insha’Allah and explore what it means that Allah’s mercy is specifically close to the muhsineen — and what that tells us about the standard we should be reaching for.

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Before diving into the final ayah of Surah Al-Muzzammil, a timely reminder — tonight is the 23rd night of Ramadan. The last ten nights are upon us, and the Prophet ﷺ told us to hunt for Laylatul Qadr in these nights, especially the odd ones. Tonight is one of them.

So what should fill these nights? Extra raka’at. Extra Quran. Extra dhikr. And the best du’a for this occasion comes to us through Sayyidatuna Aisha (رضي الله عنها), who asked the Prophet ﷺ: if I encounter the Night of Al-Qadr, what should I say? He replied: “Allahumma innaka ‘afuwwun tuhibbul ‘afwa fa’fu ‘anni” —

“O Allah, You are the Most Pardoning and You love to pardon, so pardon me.”

Now, there’s an important distinction here between ‘afw and ghafar. When we say astaghfirullah and ask for Allah’s forgiveness (ghafar), the record of the sin remains — but the punishment is cancelled. The deed is still in the books on the Day of Mahshar, but Allah will not punish us for it.

Al-’Afw is something else entirely. It is when the record is expunged altogether. Wiped clean. As if the sin never happened. This is why the Prophet ﷺ said that whoever fasts sincerely and prays during the nights of Ramadan — and catches Laylatul Qadr — will have all their past sins forgiven. They exit Ramadan like the day they were born. No record of sins whatsoever.

It’s just a few nights. Sleep a little less. Yes, there will be tiredness — that’s okay. This is our training. Don’t miss a night that is greater than a thousand months, greater than 83 years of worship.

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Where We Left Off — The Arc of Surah Al-Muzzammil

The surah opened with a command: stand up at night, pray, and recite the Quran. Why? Because the day is full of heavy tasks — spreading truth, standing for justice, enduring hardship — and the strength to carry all of that comes from the spiritual work done at night. Reading about Jannah motivates. Reading about Jahannam sobers. The connection to Allah realigns everything.

Then came the warning through the story of Fir’aun — richer, stronger, more powerful than the Quraysh, yet destroyed in an instant when he rejected Prophet Musa. Then the terrifying imagery of Yawmul Qiyamah: skies torn apart, children’s hair turning white from sheer terror. And finally, the choice: believe and take the prophetic path, or reject and face the consequences. Every choice carries a consequence.

Now the surah circles back to where it began — Qiyamul Layl — but this time with something remarkable: mercy.

Allah Knows Our Weakness

The original command was demanding. Stand up most of the night — two-thirds, or at least half, or at the very minimum a third. The Prophet ﷺ did this every single night, without exception, even while travelling, even during battle. But Allah knew that the rest of the ummah would struggle.

Allah says: “Indeed, your Lord knows that you stand less than two-thirds of the night, sometimes half, sometimes even less than a third — and so do a group of those with you.”

Allah is the One who measured the length of night and day. Some seasons, the nights are long and Qiyamul Layl is easier — in Perth during winter, Maghrib comes in at 5:15 and Fajr isn’t until around six. Plenty of time to sleep and still wake up. But in the peak of summer, when Fajr is at 3:30? That’s a different story. Allah knows all of this.

And so He says: “He has forgiven you.” Qiyamul Layl is fard upon the Prophet ﷺ, but for the rest of us, Allah has already shown mercy and lifted that strict obligation.

But Don’t Abandon It Altogether

Here’s the key — just because the full obligation has been eased doesn’t mean doing nothing is an option. Allah says: “So read what is easy for you from the Quran.” Stand up for even two raka’at. Read whatever surahs have been memorised. Carve out even a small portion of the night for spiritual work.

This is a fundamental principle in Islam: what cannot be accomplished entirely should not be abandoned in totality. Islam doesn’t teach perfectionism — it’s not 100% or nothing. It teaches consistent effort. The Prophet ﷺ said that the most beloved deeds to Allah are those that are consistent, even if they are small. Two raka’at every single night outweighs a marathon session once a month.

And this, by the way, is one of the great purposes behind memorising the Quran — so that those surahs can be recited in prayer. Al-Kahf, Al-Mulk, Al-Baqarah — they come alive when recited standing before Allah at night.

The Three Excuses Allah Accepts

Then Allah provides specific concessions. First: those who are sick. Illness isn’t a choice — when rest is needed for recovery, Allah says it’s okay.

But then come two more categories that are remarkable, because they are things people can choose — and Allah still grants them as valid reasons for doing less Qiyamul Layl.

The first: those who travel the earth seeking Allah’s bounty — meaning those who are out working, doing business, building economic stability. The second: those who fight in the path of Allah, defending the religion and the community.

These two are placed in equal standing. Working hard to earn a living is given the same weight as defending the faith. That is extraordinary. It tells us something profound about how Islam views economic productivity — not as a worldly distraction, but as an act valued by Allah Himself.

The Prophet ﷺ said the best rizq is what a person earns from their own effort, and he pointed to Prophet Dawud (عليه السلام) as the example — a prophet, a king, and yet also a blacksmith who worked with iron and ate from the labour of his own hands.

Ibn Umar expressed this beautifully. He said the best deaths he could wish for were two: martyrdom in the path of Allah, and dying on a business journey — on his camel, with his trade goods, on his way to earn a living. Because this ayah puts them side by side.

Islam Wants Muslims to Be Wealthy — But With Purpose

The encouragement to work hard and build wealth doesn’t come without direction. Islam doesn’t say: get rich so you can buy the fanciest car, then a fancy island, and once you run out of things to buy on earth, spend a trillion dollars trying to conquer Mars.

Islam says: be rich, but that’s not the end goal. The ummah becomes strong when Muslims have economic power and an akhirah mindset. With wealth, the community can build schools, support students in critical fields, fund long-term projects. This is Sadaqatul Jariyah — continuously flowing charity that keeps giving long after the initial contribution.

There’s a telling hadith in Imam Al-Nawawi’s Forty Collection that captures this tension perfectly. The poor companions once came to the Prophet ﷺ and complained: “Ya Rasulullah, the rich have taken all the extra reward! They pray like we pray, they fast like we fast — but they can give charity from their surplus wealth, and we can’t.” The Prophet ﷺ reassured them that dhikr — saying SubhanAllah, Alhamdulillah, Allahu Akbar — is also charity. The poor companions went away happy. But a few days later? The rich started doing dhikr too. Now they had both. The poor came back and said: what about us now?

The point isn’t to vilify poverty. The Prophet ﷺ went on to explain that there is charity in every good act — helping someone onto their ride, carrying someone’s load. But wealth opens doors that nothing else can. Zakat, the pillar of Islam, is only payable by those who have wealth. And the framing matters: it’s not that the wealthy have to pay zakat — they get to pay zakat. Without wealth, that entire pillar of Islam is inaccessible. And hajj is the same.

The story of Sayyidina Uthman (رضي الله عنه) at the Battle of Tabuk drives this home. He donated so generously — horses, camels, wealth — that the Prophet ﷺ said: “Nothing Uthman does after this will harm him.” Guaranteed paradise. And Uthman wasn’t living in poverty. He had luxuries. But look at the scale of what his wealth allowed him to do for the ummah.

At the same time, Islam doesn’t expect anyone to give 100% away. The best charity, the Prophet ﷺ said, is what is spent on family — on spouses, on children. The balance is always there: spend on yourself, on your family, and on the ummah for the sake of the akhirah.

The Beautiful Loan

Even with all these concessions, Allah says: still, read what is easy from the Quran. Establish your salah. Pay your zakat. Don’t let the extras overshadow the foundations — a hundred raka’at of Qiyamul Layl mean nothing if Fajr is missed. Generous charity donations mean nothing if zakat is neglected. The obligatory always comes first.

Then comes a stunning phrase: “And give Allah a beautiful loan (qard hasan).”

A qard hasan is a loan with no deadline for repayment and no interest. Every good deed — every act of worship, every charity, every kindness — is a loan to Allah. And here’s the beauty of it: Allah doesn’t need our loan. He owns everything in the heavens and the earth and everything in between and beyond. He could simply say: “That’s Mine, I gave it to you, give it back.”

But in His mercy, Allah understands human nature. He understands that people are wired to think in terms of profit and return on investment. So He frames it as a transaction: give Me a loan, and I will surely repay you — multiplied many times over. In human transactions, demanding extra on a qard is riba. But with Allah, He is the One promising to multiply the return. It’s the ultimate ROI.

And what can a person invest with? Two things: wealth or skills. Both require Muslims to be hardworking.

It’s All For Us

Allah then makes something clear: whatever is sent forth for the akhirah, it’s essentially for our own benefit. Allah doesn’t need our investment. Every command He gives is for our sake, not His.

And there’s a profound observation embedded here. As humanity lives more and more comfortably — materially, physically — mental health continues to decline. The richer the country, the higher the rates of depression and anxiety. Why? Because life without purpose erodes the soul. When everything is easy and comfortable, humans lose their sense of direction.

Islam solves this by providing a purpose so enormous that no amount of wealth or comfort can make it irrelevant: getting to Jannah. How do we get there? That question structures every day, every decision, every effort. It keeps life purposeful no matter the circumstances. And when the community works together with that shared purpose, everyone rises.

Ending with Istighfar

The surah closes with a command to seek Allah’s forgiveness. Wastaghfirullah — make istighfar. There are two dimensions to this.

First, the timing. The pre-dawn hours — suhoor time — are the best time for istighfar. Allah praises those who seek forgiveness in the early morning. For those already awake for Qiyamul Layl, this flows naturally.

Second, there’s a subtler reason. Sometimes, in the middle of worship and good deeds, something dangerous creeps into the heart. A feeling of: “I woke up for Qiyamul Layl. I read Surah Al-Kahf in one raka’ah and Surah Al-Mulk in the next. I’m amazing.” Or after giving a large charity: “I’m so generous. Look at what I gave.”

This is kibr — arrogance — and it’s one of Shaitan’s favourite tricks. When he can’t stop someone from doing good deeds, he tries to spoil the deed through the intention. So the surah ends with the antidote: astaghfirullah. Centre yourself. Realign the intention. “Ya Allah, if there was any misalignment in my heart, I seek Your forgiveness.”

Indeed, Allah is Most Forgiving and Most Merciful.

The Complete Message of Surah Al-Muzzammil

And with that, Surah Al-Muzzammil comes to a close. Its message is beautifully complete: stay up at night, even a little. Pray. Read Quran. Let that spiritual recharge fuel everything in the day — the work, the earning, the serving of the ummah. Islam is a religion of balance: worship at night, work hard in the day. And in between, give everything its right. The body has a right — rest, nutrition, exercise. Family has a right — time and attention. And Allah has a right — acts of worship.

Fulfil all those rights. That’s the straight path.

Your Action Steps This Week

* Make the du’a of Laylatul Qadr every night. Memorise “Allahumma innaka ‘afuwwun tuhibbul ‘afwa fa’fu ‘anni”and repeat it abundantly in the remaining nights of Ramadan. Understand the difference — this isn’t just asking for forgiveness, it’s asking for a complete clean slate.

* Do something every night, even if it’s small. If two raka’at is all that’s manageable, pray two raka’at. If one page of Quran is what’s realistic, read one page. Don’t let the inability to do everything become an excuse to do nothing.

* Reframe how work fits into worship. This ayah places earning a livelihood alongside fighting in the path of Allah. Approach work this week with the conscious intention that economic productivity is an act Allah values — and use what is earned to benefit family and community.

* Audit the foundations before the extras. Before adding more nawafil, make sure the obligatory salah and zakat are fully in order. The extras don’t compensate for gaps in the foundations.

* End every night with istighfar. After Qiyamul Layl, after du’a, after any act of worship — close with astaghfirullah. Let it be the safeguard against arrogance creeping into the heart through the very deeds meant to bring closeness to Allah.

May Allah grant us the strength to apply the lessons from Surah Al-Muzzammil — to pray at night, recite the Quran, and work hard in the day for the benefit of the ummah. May Allah allow us to enter Jannah with the Prophet ﷺ and with the Sahaba.

Next week, inshaAllah, we begin Suratul Muddaththir. Don’t forget — tonight is the 23rd night. Qiyamul Layl. Stay up extra. Make lots of du’a.

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

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Eight nights left. Make them count.

Quick reminder before we get into the tafseer: Zakatul Fitr is wajib on every Muslim — $20 per head this year. It’s due before Eid prayer, so don’t leave it to the last minute. If you’re not sure where to give locally, I’ll post the details for MWSC — Muslim Welfare Support Centre — in the Qaswa Community Group.

Six Days — Picking Up From Last Night

We were in the middle of something last night and I want to finish it properly.

Allah created the heavens and earth in six days — sittati ayyam. We established last night that no classical scholar ever read this as six 24-hour days. The word yawm in Arabic simply means a span of time — an epoch. Allah Himself uses the same word elsewhere in the Quran to mean 1,000 years, and in another place 50,000 years. The six-day literalism came from the Protestant Reformation, not from Islamic tradition, and it quietly seeped into some Muslim circles when logic (mantiq) got stripped out of the curriculum.

So what do the six days actually mean?

A paid subscription includes a free digital copy of the Surah Al-A’raf Study Guide and Workbook.

One of my teachers — Professor Muhammad Mahdi Jenkins, formerly Gary Jenkins, a nuclear physicist turned psychologist who eventually became Muslim — spent years building a theory that maps the six stages of cosmic creation to the Quranic account. Is this the traditional tafsir? No. But does it violate the Arabic, contradict established tafsir, or conflict with what the Prophet ﷺ or the early generations said? No. So it sits within the acceptable range of new tafsir.

Here’s what the physics looks like:

Stage one: light. The universe began as a singularity — a point of infinite density containing intense concentrated energy. That energy expressed itself across the entire electromagnetic spectrum. When we say light, don’t just picture what your eyes can see. Visible light is actually a tiny sliver of the full electromagnetic spectrum. The rest — radio waves, microwaves, X-rays, gamma rays — is all light we cannot see. That was stage one.

Stage two: particles. When energy exceeds E=mc² — energy equals mass times the speed of light squared — matter emerges. The first particles came into existence. But here’s where it gets interesting. Physics tells us that whenever matter is created, equal amounts of antimatter are also created. And when matter meets antimatter, they annihilate each other. Cancel out completely. Leave nothing but energy. By pure theory, nothing should exist in this universe — because every particle of matter should have been cancelled by its antimatter counterpart.

And yet. Here we are.

Night 21. First of the odd nights.

Go all in from here.

We’ve been over this — Laylatul Qadr is greater than a thousand months. Greater than 83 years. Most of us won’t even live to see 83. And yet Allah is handing us this, every single year, completely free. One night of worship worth more than a lifetime. Don’t let it pass.

The Trap of Being Born Into It

We stopped last night at the people of Jahannam begging for water. Not a glass — just the overflow. The spillover from the cups of the people of Jannah. Just whatever drips from the abundance that Allah has given them.

And the people of Jannah are told: it’s haram. Nothing from Jannah reaches those who took their religion as entertainment, treated it like a game, and were completely deluded by the life of this dunya.

This ayah made me pause. Because if I’m honest, this description can creep up on any of us — especially those of us who were born Muslim.

Think about it. Most of us didn’t make an active decision to be Muslim. We didn’t wake up one day, study the options, and choose Islam. We were born into it. The guidance was handed to us without us having to do anything to earn it. And because it was given for free, we sometimes treat it that way.

The attitude becomes: yeah, I’m Muslim, what’s the worst that can happen? I’ll burn in Jahannam for a few thousand years and eventually get to Jannah anyway.

There’s a story — I can’t verify the chain on this one, so take it as it is — apparently Muhammad Ali would light a match and put his finger through the flame whenever he felt tempted to do something haram. Just to remind himself: if you can’t take this heat, what about the fire of the akhirah? He would talk himself out of it right there.

Now that might sound dramatic, but the logic is sound. Imam al-Ghazali addressed exactly this problem — that we inherit our religion, we grow up with it, and we stop thinking seriously about it. We don’t study our aqidah with the weight it deserves. We don’t appreciate who our Lord is. We assume rather than know.

Some people say: don’t ask too many questions about your religion, it’ll make you doubt. Imam al-Ghazali disagreed. He said doubt is actually useful — because when you doubt, you seek answers. And there are always answers in this deen. Our scholars have spent centuries engaging with every objection from every angle. The answers are there. You just have to find them.

The problem is not doubt. The problem is sitting in doubt without seeking.

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A Book With No Room for Doubt

Allah says: We have sent down to them a book, explained with knowledge — meaning certainty. No doubt in it.

In the study of usul al-fiqh, knowledge (ilm) is defined as that which reaches the level of absolute certainty — 100%. Below it you have zhan (probability, around 75%), then shukk (50-50), then waham (25%), then nothing. Ilm is the highest level — no room for doubt.

And this book operates at that level. Allah is saying: We gave them the tools. The argument was complete. There is no excuse.

One small thing from this ayah that I want to highlight. Allah says this book is guidance and mercy lil ladhina yu’minun— for those who are in the process of believing. Not lil mu’minin, not for the confirmed believers. The verb form rather than the noun form. Why does that matter?

In Arabic, a noun is stronger than a verb. If I say someone is reading, that just describes what they’re doing right now. If I say someone is a reader, that tells you who they are. So when Allah uses the verb form here — yu’minun, those who are believing — He is saying: even if you’re not there yet, even if you’re still on your way, still trying, still working to get to iman — this book will be clear to you. You don’t have to have arrived to see it. You just have to be making the journey honestly.

This Quran is not a book for passive consumption. It’s not like opening a novel at page one and following the story. It jumps. It shifts. Surah al-Fatiha, then straight into Baqarah which changes topic to topic. It demands that you think. Allah literally asks: afala yatadabbarun al-Quran — why don’t you do tadabbur of the Quran? It’s a book that rewards effort. When you start to dig, you start to see the coherence — and when the coherence becomes apparent to you, SubhanAllah, you realise this could not have come from a human being.

Tonight marks the 21st night of Ramadan — one of the odd nights in which Laylatul Qadr may fall. The Prophet ﷺ urged us to seek it in the last ten nights. Allah describes it as a single night greater than a thousand months — more than 83 years of worship.

The minimum we should commit to: praying Isha and Fajr in congregation every night of these last ten. The Prophet ﷺ said whoever does so receives the reward of praying the entire night. If you can’t get to the masjid, pray with a family member.

Make extra effort with additional rakaat, Quran, and dua. Sayyidatuna Aisha asked what to say if she encountered Laylatul Qadr, and the Prophet ﷺ taught her: Allahumma innaka ’afuwwun tuhibbul ‘afwa fa’fu ’anni — “Oh Allah, You are the Pardoner and You love to pardon, so pardon me.”

The aim: to exit Ramadan free from sins, as though born anew.

Tajweed Breakdown: Ayah 20, Surah Al-Muzammil

This is the final ayah of the surah — a lengthy one spanning half a page. Key rules covered include:

The letter ’Ain — produced from the middle of the throat with partial constriction. It flows, unlike a full glottal stop.

Qalqalah — a bouncing sound applied to the five letters (qaaf, taa, baa, jiim, daal) when they carry sukun. Avoid bouncing non-qalqalah letters.

Noon Sakinah and Tanween rules throughout the ayah:

∙ Ikhfa (partial merging) — when noon sakinah meets letters outside the yarmaloon and idhar groups (e.g., noon before thaa, taa, sin, faa). Keep the back of the tongue flat when the following letter is light.

∙ Idgham (full merging) — when noon sakinah meets a yarmaloon letter. Read with gunnah for ya, nun, mim, and waw. No gunnah for laam and raa.

∙ Idhar (clear pronunciation) — when tanween is perfectly aligned, or noon sakinah carries a sukun sign before a throat letter. No gunnah, no merging.

Identifying tanween type: A perfectly aligned (stacked) tanween indicates idhar. An unaligned (offset) tanween indicates merging (idgham).

Mim sakinah before mim — idgham mutamathilain, read with gunnah.

Madd rules: Madd asli (natural prolongation, two harakat) applies throughout. Madd badal appears in several places but operates under madd asli rules in this reading. Madd ’arid lil-sukun (two, four, or six harakat) applies when stopping at the end of a word — keep it consistent throughout.

Lafzul Jalalah (the name “Allah”): The laam is read heavy when preceded by fathah or dhammah, and light when preceded by kasrah.

Pronunciation reminders:

∙ The letter haa at the end of a word must still be subtly pronounced, not swallowed.

∙ Kaaf carries a slight exhaled breath when stopping on it.

∙ Laam is produced from the sides of the tongue against the upper molars, not the tip.

Closing: The full ayah was recited together. This completes the reading of Surah Al-Muzammil, built up week by week across the series. A reminder to make extra dua in these final nights.

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The last ten have begun.

Taharaw laylatal qadr fil ashril awakhir min Ramadan. Hunt for Laylatul Qadr in the last ten nights of Ramadan.

Here’s why this gift exists. The Prophet ﷺ once told the companions about a man from the Banu Israel who worshipped Allah for 80 years straight. Not 80 years of regular life with some ibadah mixed in. 80 years of dedicated, committed worship. The companions were jealous — and honestly, who wouldn’t be? We live 60, maybe 70 years. The Prophet ﷺ himself said the age of his ummah is between 60 and 70, and very few go beyond that. And yes, there are billionaires today spending fortunes trying to extend human life to 120, 130 — but biologists will tell you that quality of life drops significantly past a certain point, no matter how much money you throw at it. That’s just how the body is built.

So the companions asked: Ya Rasulullah, how do we compete with people who had 80 years to worship Allah when we barely get 60?

And then Allah revealed an entire surah — Surah Al-Qadr — answering that question.

The night of Al-Qadr is greater than a thousand months.

Not equal to. Greater than. 1,000 months is 83 years. And Allah didn’t say you get this once. You get it every single year. Think about that. If you start taking your deen seriously at the age of 10 and you live to 70 — that’s 60 Ramadans. 60 Laylatul Qadrs. 60 opportunities where one night of ibadah is worth more than 83 years of continuous worship. In terms of quality of ibadah, how old are you really?

That is the gift Allah gave the Ummah of Muhammad ﷺ.

So don’t let any of these ten nights pass you without something in it. The absolute minimum — and none of us should drop below this — is to pray Isha in jama’ah and pray Fajr in jama’ah. Just those two. The Prophet ﷺ said whoever does that, Allah writes for them the reward of praying the entire night. Imagine praying the entire night. Now imagine that night is Laylatul Qadr. Do it every night for these ten nights and insha’Allah you will not miss it. Beyond that — pray your sunnah, do taraweeh, read some Quran when you get home, wake up a few minutes before suhur and make dua.

For the sisters who can’t pray right now — you are not left out. Your dua is the same. Your dhikr is the same. Sayyidah Aisha RA asked the Prophet ﷺ what to say on Laylatul Qadr: Allahumma innaka afuwwun tuhibbul afwa fa’fu anni. O Allah, You are the Most Forgiving, You love to forgive, so forgive me. That’s the dua. Fill these nights with it.

The People of the Heights — And What Their Story Tells Us

We stopped last night at the Ashab al-A’raf — the people standing on the elevated ground between Jannah and Jahannam, neither here nor there, their good and bad deeds perfectly balanced at 50-50.

From their vantage point on the heights, they can see both destinations. And here’s a detail I want you to sit with: the ayah says wa idha surifat absaruhum — when their gaze was turned towards the people of fire. They didn’t choose to look. Allah turned their eyes. Given the choice, if you’re standing on the A’raf and Jannah is right there on one side — you know exactly where you’re going to keep your attention. You’re not voluntarily turning to look at Jahannam.

But Allah turns their gaze. And the moment they see the punishment the people of fire are enduring, they immediately make dua: Rabbana la taj’alna ma’al qawmidh dhalimin — O Allah, do not place us among the wrongdoers.

Then they recognise people. They call out to the people of fire and they know them — ya’rifoonahum bisimaahum — by the marks on them. And this makes sense, because the Ashab al-A’raf are the in-between people. In their life on earth, they moved between both worlds. Sometimes in the company of good people, sometimes in the company of bad. So on Yawmul Qiyamah, they look at Jahannam and they see faces they know. And they look at Jannah and they see faces they know too.

They point to the people of Jannah — people like Bilal, like Sumayyah, like Khabab ibn al-Aratt — and they say to the people of fire: are these the ones you swore would receive no mercy from Allah? Look where they are now.

Why Do They Get to Enter?

And then comes the moment. Allah says to the Ashab al-A’raf: udkhulul jannah — enter Jannah.

Some of the mufassirun say this is the Ashab al-A’raf congratulating the people of Jannah as they enter. Others say it is the angels — who had been guarding the Ashab al-A’raf at the heights, preventing them from moving — now giving them permission to enter.

The Last Ten Begin Tomorrow

Tonight is the 19th night of Ramadan. The last ten start tomorrow.

The Prophet ﷺ told us that whoever misses the good of Laylatul Qadr has been denied all good for the entire year — because that person looked at a night worth more than a thousand months and said: I’m fine, I don’t need it.

One thousand months is 83 years. One night of ibadah — one raka’ah, one dollar given in charity, one dua made sincerely — on that night is worth doing that same act every single day for over 83 years without a break and more.

And we’re in Australia. Our odd nights might be someone else’s even nights. Our even nights might be someone else’s odd. So cast the net wide. All ten nights. If you’ve had an unfinished TV series to get through — tonight is your last chance. From tomorrow, for ten nights, we give everything.

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The Wrongdoers Identified

We left off last night with a mu’adzin in Jahannam announcing: the curse of Allah is upon the wrongdoers. Tonight Allah defines who these wrongdoers are.

They are those who block people from the path of Allah — who not only refuse to walk it themselves, but actively work to prevent others from finding it. This was the Quraysh in real time. Abu Jahl would hire musicians to play loudly across the street whenever the Prophet ﷺ was reciting Quran or giving da’wah, so that the sound of music would drown out the revelation. Abu Lahab would greet every caravan arriving in Makkah and warn them: don’t listen to my nephew — he’s mad.

The result? Many of the Quraysh never actually heard the Quran. Not because they rejected it, but because their leaders made sure it never reached them. This is why Islam insists we are not sheep. We do not follow our leaders blindly. Every statement, every ruling, every claim — we measure it against the Quran and the Sunnah.

The same ayah mentions those who bend the path — those who speak about Allah without knowledge, declaring halal and haram on their own authority. The root of this, Allah tells us, is disbelief in the akhirah: wa hum bil akhirati kafiroon.

This is the key insight. The Quraysh had no fundamental problem believing in Allah as the ultimate creator. Their problem was with the akhirah. Because believing in akhirah has consequences — it means you can no longer cheat, oppress, or abuse without accountability. In Makkah, the rich and powerful could do whatever they wanted. Islam came and said: there is a day coming where none of that will protect you.

This is why throughout the Quran, iman billah and iman bil akhirah are paired together. You could, technically, believe in Allah without believing in the akhirah — the Quraysh did exactly that. But belief in Allah without belief in akhirah will not reshape who you are. It is the akhirah that governs behaviour. It is accountability that changes people.

And this is what keeps the believer sane when they watch the world. Schools bombed. Entire populations under siege. The powerful openly declaring that international law does not apply to them — that might is right again. Where is the justice? The akhirah is where. Every oppressor will stand before Allah. No title, no army, no wealth will help them. This is not a coping mechanism — it is a theological certainty that the Quran repeats again and again.

The Heights

Between Jannah and Jahannam, Allah says, there is a hijab — a barrier. And rising above that barrier, there is the A’raf: a height, an elevated terrain, from which both destinations can be seen.

On the A’raf, standing on this high ground, is a group of people. They can look across and see the people of Jannah. They can look the other way and see the people of fire. And they know — from signs visible to them — who belongs to which side.

Who are the people of A’raf? They are those whose good and bad deeds are exactly equal. The scales balanced perfectly. They are neither in Jannah nor in Jahannam. They are suspended — waiting.

After Badr

The battle is over. The Muslims are victorious. Fourteen Muslims were martyred. Seventy Quraysh were killed, including Abu Jahl — the man who had led the persecution of the believers for over a decade.

And then the Prophet ﷺ did something that tells you everything about his character. He instructed the Muslims to dig graves and bury the Quraysh dead. These were men who had tortured and killed companions. Men who had tried to kill the Prophet ﷺ himself. Men who had driven the Muslims from their homes, confiscated their property, starved them, humiliated them.

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Bury them.

No mutilation. No revenge. No public display of contempt. The body is the body — even the body of an enemy is to be respected.

Only one man was not buried in the conventional way: Umayyah ibn Khalaf — the master who had tortured Bilal RA, dragging him into the desert sun and placing a boulder on his chest. When the companions tried to lift Umayyah’s body, his skin disintegrated. They could not move him. Rocks and stones were placed over him where he lay — just as he had placed a rock on the chest of Bilal in the desert. The Arabs say: what you give, you get back.

The Prophet ﷺ then walked to the grave of Abu Jahl and asked him a question — the same question the people of Jannah will ask the people of Jahannam, which we reach tonight in the surah. Did you find what Allah promised you to be true?

The companions asked: Ya Rasulullah, can the dead hear us? He said: they can hear you as clearly as you hear me — but they cannot respond. When we visit the graves of our loved ones, when we make dua and say our salams, they hear us.

Iman and Amal — They Cannot Be Separated

Allah now turns to the people of Jannah: those who believe and do good deeds.

Islam does not offer salvation through faith alone. Iman and amal salih must come together — and they are inseparable by nature. True iman will always manifest as good deeds. And truly sincere good deeds can only come from a heart that has iman. Without iman, the deeds may look the same from the outside — but the intention is elsewhere. You are doing it to be praised, to be seen, to be known. The action and the heart become disconnected.

A sincere heart shows. It shows in what a person does when no one is watching. Publicly and privately, the same. That is the mark of iman.

And those who say my heart is good while their actions tell a different story — Islam does not accept this. A good heart is not invisible. It is expressed.

On this night, 1,443 years ago, 313 Muslim men camped on the plains of Badr — underprepared, outnumbered more than three to one — on the eve of a battle that would determine whether Islam survived or was extinguished.

There is no tafseer of Surah Al-A’raf tonight. Tonight belongs to Badr.

How They Got There

The Muslims left Madinah on the 12th of Ramadan. The mission was straightforward: intercept Abu Sufyan’s caravan returning from Syria — the largest trading caravan the Quraysh had ever assembled, loaded with profits from goods financed largely by wealth confiscated from the Muslims at the time of Hijrah. Not a battle. An interception.

But Abu Sufyan’s scouts were sharp. One of the Bedouin trackers found camel droppings along the route, opened them, and recognised the date pits inside as coming from the farms of Madinah. The Muslims were tracking them. Abu Sufyan immediately rerouted and sent the fastest rider in his group back to Makkah — the rider sliced the nose of his camel and smeared the blood on himself to arrive with maximum drama, ensuring the message landed with urgency.

Abu Jahl raised 1,300 men. Not to protect the caravan — the caravan had already escaped. This was about something else now. We are going to crush Islam and the Muslims once and for all.

By the time 300 of that army turned back — satisfied that their property was safe — 1,000 Quraysh warriors were marching toward Badr with that single purpose.

The Muslims, meanwhile, had 313 men. Two horses. Seventy camels. And eight swords.

They had not come prepared for battle. They had expected a small caravan escort — ten, twenty, thirty men at most. They found an army.

And they did not turn back.

The Leadership of the Prophet ﷺ

When the Prophet ﷺ chose a campsite on the plains of Badr, a companion — al-Hubab ibn al-Mundhir — approached him and asked a remarkable question: Ya Rasulullah, is this position based on revelation from Allah, or is this your personal judgement?

The Prophet ﷺ said: personal judgement.

Al-Hubab said: in that case, may I suggest we move further forward — to the wells of Badr — so that we control the Quraysh’s access to water?

The Prophet ﷺ accepted. He moved the entire army.

This is a man who could have said: I am the Prophet of Allah, my opinion is final. He said nothing of the sort. He distinguished clearly between what came from Allah and what came from his own thinking. And when a companion had a better idea, he took it.

A leader who cannot be corrected is a leader who will eventually fail. The Prophet ﷺ modelled the opposite: you are not any stronger than me, and I am not any less in need of the reward from Allah. When they shared rides on the 160-kilometre journey — three men, including the Prophet ﷺ, rotating on one camel — his companions begged him to ride the whole way. He refused. He walked his share.

The Night Before

That night, with a thousand armed men across the plain, Allah gave the Muslims a gift: sleep.

Anyone who has had a major exam, a difficult interview, a high-stakes day ahead knows what that night feels like. You lie awake. The mind races. The Muslims knew what was coming — and they slept.

Allah also sent light rain on the Muslim side. The ground compacted. The march in the morning would be firm underfoot. On the Quraysh side, Allah sent heavy rain. Sleepless. Muddy ground. No access to water. Before a single sword was raised, the advantage had already shifted.

The Prophet ﷺ spent much of that night in dua — arms raised so intensely that his shawl fell to the ground. Abu Bakr al-Siddiq, waking before Fajr, wrapped it back around his shoulders and stood listening. Among the duas the Prophet ﷺ made that night: Ya Allah, if You destroy this group, You will never be worshipped on this earth again. These were the best of the Muslim men. Most of them. If they fell here, there would be no rebuilding.

The dhikr of Badr — the one the Prophet ﷺ repeated through that night and into the battle — was Ya Hayyu Ya Qayyum. The Ever-Living. The Ever-Sustaining. The One who holds everything in existence. Repeat this in your own difficult nights.

Islam Is a Salad Bowl

When the Prophet ﷺ organised his army on the morning of battle, he divided them into three groups: the Muhajirin on the right, led by Sayyidina Ali; the Ansar on the left, led by Sayyidina Sa’d ibn Mu’adh; and a mixed group at the centre, where the Prophet ﷺ stood himself, with the banner held by Mus’ab ibn Umayr — the first companion to migrate to Madinah, the man through whose teaching most of the Ansar had embraced Islam.

Why keep them separate? Why not one unified mass?

Because Islam does not erase identity. It never has. The Muhajirin were Meccan. The Ansar were Medinan. Different dialects, different traditions, different cultures — and at this point in history, genuinely different peoples. Islam acknowledged that difference and worked with it. Each group fought with the strength that came from who they were.

Islam is not a melting pot. It is a salad bowl. A tomato remains a tomato. A cucumber remains a cucumber. Mixed together, each contributing what it is — they serve something greater than any one of them alone.

Keep your cultural identity. Be proud of who Allah made you. Learn your mother tongue. And be equally proud to be Muslim — guided by Islamic principles, united by La ilaha illallah Muhammadur Rasulullah, with Arabic as the thread that connects the entire ummah across every language and culture.

Help Comes in Ways You Cannot See

When the battle began, most of the Muslims did not know they were being assisted by angels. They raised their weapons and fought with everything they had. Some were injured. Some were martyred. They had to show up. They had to put in the effort. The help came — but it came to those who were already in the field.

Jibreel came wearing a yellow turban, marked like Mus’ab ibn Umayr. A thousand angels — one for every Quraysh soldier — came wearing white, on white horses. The Quraysh saw them coming from across the plain. They did not know what they were seeing.

And then Iblis — who had marched alongside the Quraysh in the guise of Suraqah ibn Malik, who had promised them safety, who had said I am with you, no one can defeat you today — Iblis was the first to see the angels. He turned and fled.

I see what you do not see. I am afraid of Allah.

The Quraysh: You were the one who convinced us to come! You were the one who promised us victory!

Iblis said nothing more. He left.

This is who Iblis is. He is there when things are going well. The moment the cost becomes real, he disappears. The friends you make in sin will not be there when the consequences arrive.

Abdullah ibn Mas’ud — a man so small he stood barely above a metre — captured Sayyidina Abbas, the Prophet’s uncle, a giant of a man with a voice that could carry across a battlefield. Abbas was humiliated. He told everyone who saw him: it wasn’t this small man — there was someone bigger, someone else who took me down. When Abdullah ibn Mas’ud brought Abbas to the Prophet ﷺ, the Prophet ﷺ confirmed: it was not you, Abdullah. You were assisted by an angel.

Do not be arrogant with your success. You put in the effort. But the victory was never yours alone to claim.

The Secret of Badr — And of Ramadan

The Quran tells us the secret of Badr in Surah Ali Imran in two words: sabr and taqwa.

Sabr is steadfastness — continuing on the right path regardless of how difficult it becomes. Taqwa is your living connection with Allah.

Ramadan trains both. Every day of fasting hones sabr — the steadfastness to stay on the right path regardless of hunger and exhaustion. Every night of prayer and Quran builds taqwa — the connection with Allah that carries you through what the day alone cannot prepare you for.

The Prophet ﷺ won his greatest military victory in Ramadan — on the 17th, on the plains of Badr. His greatest political victory, the Conquest of Makkah, was also in Ramadan. Sa’d ibn Abi Waqqas defeated the Persian Sassanid Empire at the Battle of Qadisiyyah in Ramadan. Amr ibn al-As conquered Egypt in Ramadan.

The pattern is not coincidence. It is a formula.

Fast your days. Pray your nights. And trust that when you show up on the field with whatever weapons you have, Allah will send what you cannot see

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After Witr tonight insha’Allah — Salawat Badriyya.

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The Battle of Badr — Approaching

The Muslims left Madinah on the 12th of Ramadan. Tonight, in the timeline of history, they would have been settling into the plains of Badr — fasting, outnumbered, about to face something no one had fully planned for.

The original aim was to intercept Abu Sufyan’s caravan returning from Syria — laden with the wealth the Quraysh had confiscated from the Muslims at the time of Hijrah. Abu Sufyan’s scouts, however, found camel droppings containing date pits from the farms of Madinah. He understood: the Muslims are tracking us. He rerouted the caravan and sent the fastest rider back to Makkah with a call for reinforcements — the rider even smeared camel blood on himself for dramatic effect, to ensure the message landed with urgency.

Abu Jahl raised 1,300 men. By the time they reached the plains of Badr, the caravan had already escaped via a different route. Three hundred of the Quraysh army turned back — the property was safe, their reason for coming was gone. But Abu Jahl pressed forward with a thousand. This was no longer about a caravan. This was about crushing Islam once and for all.

When the Prophet ﷺ chose a campsite on the plains of Badr, one of the companions asked: Ya Rasulullah, is this position based on revelation, or is this your personal judgement? The Prophet ﷺ said: personal judgement. The companion said: in that case, may I suggest we move further, to control the Quraysh’s access to the wells?

The Prophet ﷺ accepted. He moved the entire army.

In that moment — a Prophet, the most beloved of creation, moving his troops based on a suggestion from a companion — is a masterclass in leadership. A good leader takes counsel. A good leader distinguishes between revelation and personal opinion. A good leader is not too proud to be corrected.

We continue the story of Badr tomorrow insha’Allah.

The Blame Game Has No End

Returning to Surah Al-A’raf — yesterday we saw the people of Jahannam blaming each other as they entered. The followers blamed the leaders. The leaders said: you chose to follow us. Taste what you earned.

Now Allah introduces a further dimension: the former and the latter — early generations and those who came after.

Think about what this means personally. If someone in your family tree was the first to introduce something harmful — idol worship, a corrupt practice, a tradition that led generations away from Allah — and their descendants followed without question, then when all of them meet in Jahannam, the descendants will turn to the ancestor: you started this. This is your fault. You deserve more.

It is a sobering thought. The decisions we make do not end with us.

The Reverse Is Also True

But the reverse is equally real — and this is where the heart lifts.

A thousand years ago, the ancestors of many Muslims sitting in our community tonight were not Muslim. The Malays were Hindu and Buddhist. The Turks were sky-worshipping pagans on the steppe. The Indonesians had their own traditions. And then — somewhere up that family tree — one person made a decision. I am going to be a Muslim.

Because of that one decision, generations of descendants were born into Islam. Every salah they prayed, every fast they kept, every act of charity they gave — a portion of that reward travels back up the chain to the one who made the original call.

That ancestor has been in his grave for perhaps 700, 800 years. And he is still receiving dividends. Still collecting on that one decision. This is the real passive income. Not a pyramid scheme — a multi-level reward that compounds across generations until Yawmul Qiyamah.

And in Jannah, insha’Allah, we will find that ancestor. We will say: thank you. Because of you, I did not have to make the hard choice. I was born Muslim. All I had to do was protect what you gave me.

For those among us who did make that hard choice — who came to Islam as adults, who chose this path when no one around them did — your reward carries the same weight. Every person in your lineage who comes after you and remains on this deen is a continuation of your decision. Do not underestimate what you started.

Do Not Trivialise Small Good Deeds

This is why we must never dismiss small acts of goodness as insignificant.

Teach one child Quran. That child teaches his children. His children teach theirs. How many generations between now and Yawmul Qiyamah? Every one of them who recites the Quran — you carry a portion of that reward. A tiny portion, yes. But multiplied across centuries, across an entire family tree — it becomes something beyond calculation.

Whatever good deed you start, its consequences ripple outward in ways you will never live to see. A Muslim thinks in generations, not just in lifetimes. The question is not only: what am I doing today? The question is: what am I starting?

The Camel and the Eye of the Needle

For those who reject the ayat of Allah, who are arrogant against His guidance — la tufattahu lahum abwab al-sama’. The gates of heaven will not be opened for them. Their good deeds will not ascend. The angels carry our deeds up twice daily — at Fajr and Maghrib, which is why these are the great times of morning and evening dhikr, when two shifts of angels overlap and the same act is recorded twice. But for the one who rejects Allah, those deeds remain earthbound. He gets what he intended — praise from people, a legacy among men — and nothing more.

Hatim al-Ta’i was the most celebrated generous man in Arab history. His name became a byword for generosity — Arabs still use it today, 1,400 years later. His son asked the Prophet ﷺ about his father’s fate. The Prophet ﷺ said: he never gave for Allah’s sake. He gave to be known as generous. And Allah gave him exactly that. He is still being praised. His intention was fulfilled in full.

You get what you intend for. If you intend for Allah, Allah rewards you. If you intend for people, people reward you. But the gates of heaven remain closed.

And if a person who rejects the ayat of Allah still imagines they might enter Jannah — Allah gives us the measure of that hope: try fitting a camel through the eye of a needle first. In Arabic this is the expression for the impossible, the never-happening, the stop-dreaming. It will not happen. Not through arrogance. Not through denial. Not through rejecting the messenger.

Tomorrow insha’Allah — the people of Jannah. The Quran always balances: after the warning comes the glad tidings.

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A Ramadan Halftime Check-In

Before we dive into today’s ayat, I want to take a moment to remind myself and all of you — today marks the 15th of Ramadan. We are at the halfway mark of this blessed month.

It’s time to pause and reflect on our first half. How has it been? Have we been building momentum? Because here’s the thing — it is no longer time to warm up. We should already be warmed up by now. We are gearing up and preparing ourselves to hunt for the greatest night of the year: Laylatul Qadr, the Night of Power, which will fall on one of the odd nights in the last ten nights of Ramadan.

So let’s make sure our ibadah is increasing every single night — our Quran recitation, our prayers, our charity, our kindness to family, friends, and neighbours. Everything must now be on an upward trajectory so that when the last ten nights arrive, we are ready to go all out. We’re hunting for a night that is greater than a thousand months. Let’s not miss it.

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Where We Left Off

Last week, we explored how Allah was preparing Rasulullah ﷺ for the enormous mission ahead. The Prophet was troubled by the verbal abuse and humiliation inflicted on him and his followers by the Quraysh. And what was Allah’s prescription? Stand up at night. Pray. Recite the Quran. Make dhikr — mention the name of your Lord.

This is how we find the strength to face every challenge in life, especially the challenge of becoming and remaining a good Muslim. The more we connect with the Quran, the more we connect with Allah, and the more everything else becomes easier.

Allah then told Rasulullah ﷺ to take Him as a Wakil — the One who looks after all your affairs. When you have Allah as your Wakil, you do a little and things become a lot easier. Then Allah turned directly to the Quraysh and warned them of chains, choking food, and a burning fire.

Now we come to a new passage where Allah expands the audience. He is still addressing the Quraysh, but He is also speaking to every single one of us.

A Messenger as Witness — For Us or Against Us

Allah says: “Indeed, We have sent to you a messenger as a witness over you.”

Think about that for a moment. Rasulullah ﷺ is going to stand on the Day of Judgement as a witness. The question is — will he be a witness for us, or against us?

If he testifies for us, that means shafa’ah — intercession. He will stand before Allah and say: “Ya Allah, this person is from my ummah. They followed my teaching, they followed my sunnah, they tried their very best.” He will intercede on our behalf, asking Allah to forgive our sins and tip the scales in our favour.

But he could also testify against us. And Allah has already recorded in the Quran what that looks like. On the Day of Judgement, Rasulullah ﷺ will say: “O my Lord, my people — they received this Quran and just put it aside.” They chose to ignore it. Chose not to put it into practice. Chose not to be guided by it.

That is a terrifying thought. If the Prophet ﷺ — Habibullah, the beloved of Allah — testifies against us, who is going to stand up to defend us? Who would dare?

Halfway. Fifteen nights in, fifteen nights to go.

The warm-up is over. From here, we accelerate. The last third — the ten nights of salvation — is coming. But before we get there, the middle ten: the days of forgiveness. Use them.

A brief note before tonight’s tafseer: on the 17th of Ramadan, we commemorate Yawm al-Furqan — the Day of Criterion, the Battle of Badr. The Muslims left Madinah on the 12th of Ramadan, fasting, unprepared for full battle, setting out on the instruction of the Prophet ﷺ immediately after prayer. 313 men. In a few days, they would meet an army of a thousand. What happened at Badr is the most important battle in human history — the moment truth and falsehood were separated with finality. We will cover it over the coming nights insha’Allah.

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The Worst Wrongdoer

“Who does more wrong than one who invents a lie against Allah?”

This phrase — faman azlamu mimman iftara ala Allahi kadhiban — appears in multiple places in the Quran. It is one of the gravest charges the Quran levels. And it falls into two categories.

The first is inventing objects or forms of worship and attributing them to Allah. The Quraysh who worshipped idols and claimed these were the daughters of Allah, that Allah commanded their worship — this is the obvious example. Creating your own god and calling it Allah’s command.

The second is subtler and closer to home: declaring halal and haram without knowledge. Pronouncing that something is forbidden or obligatory without proper grounding in revelation — and then attributing this ruling to the Sharia of Allah. This too is lying against Allah. This too is a grave sin.

The early imams understood this acutely. They rarely used the word haram unless something was explicitly stated in the Quran or Sunnah. If their ijtihad pointed toward avoidance, they would say: stay away from it. They would not say haram. Because to declare something haram without certainty is to speak about Allah without knowledge — and that is the very sin this ayah is addressing.

Over time, something interesting happened. When the imam said “stay away from it,” later generations heard: it’s not haram yet — we can still do it. So the scholars had to escalate to “haram.” And then people started asking: is it a major sin or a minor sin? If minor, Allah is most forgiving — carry on. The language had to become stronger because the taqwa had become weaker. The early generation did not need to be told something was haram. The imam’s caution was enough.

Be very careful about declaring things halal or haram. That is the domain of Allah alone.

This week we read and dissect the tajweed rules in ayat 15 - 19 of Surah al-Muzzammil. When it comes to learning a new skill, like Quran reading, remember that consistency beats intensity. It is very important that we practice daily even if it is just for 10 - 15 minutes.

Allah does not leave us alone on this earth.

After Adam’s descent, after the warnings about Shaitan’s tactics, after the long passage of advice to the children of Adam — Allah makes a promise. Ya Bani Adam, imma ya’tiyannakum rusulum minkum. O children of Adam, surely a messenger from amongst you will come to you.

That word surely is embedded in the Arabic itself. The verb does not simply say ya’tikum — he will come. It says ya’tiyannakum — with a heavy nun at the end, what grammarians call nun thaqilah. In Arabic, sound carries meaning. That heaviness is emphasis. That emphasis is a promise. Allah will not send you into this world and abandon you without guidance.

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A Prophet From Among You

The first audience of this ayat was the Quraysh. And the message to them was pointed: this messenger is from amongst you. He is Arab. He is Qurayshi. If he succeeds, it is your success. If his message spreads, it is the Arabs who are elevated.

Consider their situation. The Arabian Peninsula sat sandwiched between two of the greatest empires in human history — the Sassanid Persian Empire to the east and the Roman Empire to the west. Alexander the Great had swept across the known world but did not even bother to venture south into Arabia. Rocks and camels, they said. The Arabs had no comparable civilisation, no unified identity, no place in the story of the great powers.

And here was a prophet — from among them — carrying a message that would unite them, give them identity, and ultimately make them the inheritors of both those empires within a generation.

Even some of the Quraysh leaders who resisted Islam quietly acknowledged this. Why should we fight him, they reasoned. If he wins, the victory belongs to us. If he loses, the Romans or the Persians will deal with him. Why are Arabs fighting Arabs?

Allah was asking the same question. Why are you against this?

A poor non-Muslim once approached a wealthy tabi’een and said: your Prophet lied. He said this world is a prison for the believers — yet you are living like a king and I have nothing. How is this your prison?

The tabi’een replied: because you have not seen what Allah has prepared for me in the akhirah. If you could see it, you would understand that this life — however comfortable — is nothing by comparison. And you think you are suffering now? You have not seen what Allah has prepared for those who go against Him in the next life either.

This is the correct proportion. The best of this world is still a prison compared to Jannah. But whatever Allah has created in this world — the beauty, the good provisions, the adornment — He created it for us to enjoy. Responsibly. Without excess. And with our eyes on something greater.

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Innama — These Are the Things

Allah now lists what He has actually made haram. And He opens with a single, precise word: innama.

In Arabic, innama is a word of restriction. It limits what follows to a specific, bounded list. Nothing more. When the Prophet ﷺ said innama bu’ithtu li utammima makarimal akhlaq — I have been sent only to perfect noble character — that innama tells us everything. The entire prophetic mission, all of the Sharia, all of the ibadah, all of the fasting and prayer and dhikr — it all points toward one destination: makarimul akhlaq, noble character.

This is a mirror we should hold up regularly. If our engagement with the religion is making us more arrogant, ruder in how we speak, more dismissive of others — something has gone wrong. The religion of the Prophet ﷺ does not produce that. It produces humility, gentleness, and excellence in character. If we are getting closer to the rituals but further from good akhlaq, we are missing the point of the rituals entirely.

So when Allah uses innama to introduce what He has made haram, He is doing the same thing — drawing a clean, limited boundary. Not an overwhelming list. Not everything that makes life enjoyable. These specific things. That is all.

The Balance Islam Strikes

Some spiritual traditions teach that poverty is the path to God. Monks take oaths of poverty. Monasteries require their residents to own nothing, eat simply, wear rags. Buddhism requires its monks to beg. On the other end of the spectrum, certain strands of modern Christianity preach the opposite — that wealth is a sign of divine favour, that God rewards the faithful with material success.

Islam is neither. It is ummatan wasata — a middle community, a middle path.

Allah commands us to adorn ourselves, dress well, eat from the good things of the earth. But don’t go into excess. Don’t waste. Don’t make wealth the final destination. The balance is precise: enjoy what Allah has provided, be grateful for it, and let it serve something greater than itself.

And critically — Islam does not promote mediocrity. The instruction not to be excessive is not permission to be comfortable doing nothing. Islam actively encourages wealth-building, economic development, and productivity. The criticism is not of wealth. It is of wealth as the be-all and end-all — the pursuit of accumulation for its own sake, while people go hungry and problems go unsolved.

We Are Not Prisoners Here

This ayah carries a profound theological point — one that directly contradicts the biblical narrative.

In Christian theology, humanity is on earth as a consequence of the Fall. Adam and Hawwa sinned, and we are here serving time, suffering the punishment of their disobedience.

The Quran tells a different story entirely.

Before the story of Adam even begins in this surah, Allah says: “We have settled you on earth and made for you in it a good living.” Earth was always the plan. Jannah was an orientation — a glimpse of the destination, so we know what we are working toward and what we are trying to build here.

And this ayah confirms it: “Say — who has declared haram the beauty that Allah has brought forth for His servants, and the good provisions?” Allah created this beautiful world for the believers to enjoy. If we were prisoners here, why would our Warden furnish the cell with gardens, oceans, mountains, good food, and beauty in every direction?

“All of this is for the believers in this life — and exclusively theirs on the Day of Judgement.”

Enjoying the good things of this world does not diminish your akhirah. Wealth is not a sign that Allah is displeased with you, withholding your reward for later. Hardship is not a sign that Allah loves you more. Both are tests. Wealth tests your gratitude and generosity. Hardship tests your patience and trust. Both paths lead to Jannah — if you respond rightly.

And in one sense, wealth carries an extra advantage. The poor Sahabah once came to the Prophet ﷺ and complained: “The wealthy have taken all the reward. They pray like us, they fast like us — but they can give charity and we cannot.”The Prophet ﷺ gave them dhikr as an equivalent. A few days later they returned: “Now the rich are doing the dhikr too. What do we have left?”

The lesson is not that poverty is better. It is that the wealthy have an additional avenue for good deeds that others do not. Sayyidatuna Khadijah funded the early da’wah. Sayyidina Uthman donated so generously to the Battle of Tabuk that the Prophet ﷺ said nothing could harm him after that. And what did the Sahabah do when guaranteed Jannah? They did not relax. They increased. They understood that 80 or 100 years of wealth in this world is a brief window to invest in an eternity in the akhirah.

Halal and Haram — Tread Carefully

From this ayah we also learn something often overlooked: declaring something halal as haram is just as serious a sin as declaring something haram as halal.

Halal and haram are the domain of Allah alone. The Prophet ﷺ told us: the clearly halal is clear, the clearly haram is clear, and between them are grey areas that most people do not fully understand. Scholars who specialise in these areas navigate the grey carefully, and legitimate differences of opinion exist within the framework of the Sharia.

The rule for us: stay away from what is clearly haram. In areas of genuine scholarly difference, choose a position you are comfortable with and respect that others may hold a different but equally valid opinion. And do not rush to declare things haram simply because they are unfamiliar or uncomfortable to you.

To speak about Allah without knowledge — to declare His deen more restrictive or more permissive than He made it — is itself one of the things Allah has made haram, as the next passage makes clear.

What Allah Has Actually Made Haram

So if Allah has not made beauty haram, not made good provisions haram, not made adornment haram — what has He made haram?

Fawahish — shamelessness. Both the external and the internal.

The external is visible: the stripping away of clothing and modesty, the open broadcasting of indecency, the collapse of haya in public life. We have discussed this at length over the past several nights.

The internal is the sin of the heart — and the surah has already named it: arrogance. Kibir. You cannot see arrogance directly. You see its symptoms — the dismissiveness, the contempt, the refusal to accept truth. But the root sits quietly in the heart, growing. A thought that someone is lesser than you. An assumption that your obedience has earned you superiority. Left unchecked, it becomes exactly what Iblis demonstrated: denial of truth and contempt for others.

Both fawahish — the external and the internal — are declared haram. Both unravel the human being from the outside in and the inside out.

And alongside these: shirk, and speaking about Allah without knowledge.

We will continue with this ayah tomorrow insha’Allah.

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One third of Ramadan is behind us.

There is a narration — its grading is discussed among scholars, but widely used as a reminder — that the first ten nights carry the overwhelming mercy of Allah, the second ten His forgiveness, and the final ten His guarantee of salvation from the fire. Though in reality, every single night holds all three. Ramadan does not divide itself neatly into chapters. But the framing is useful: if the first ten was a warm-up, the second ten is time to accelerate.

Do a honest pit stop. How have the first ten days been? Whatever the answer, Ramadan is a marathon, not a sprint. The goal is not to peak on night one. The goal is to be better in the second third than the first, and better in the final third than both.

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The People Who Think They Are Guided

Allah divides humanity into two groups in this passage: those who follow guidance, and those for whom misguidance has become their reality.

Why does misguidance become their reality? Because they have taken Shaitan as their wali — their loyal, protective ally. And Shaitan, as we discussed, is a wali who flatters in good times and abandons at the worst possible moment.

But here is the sobering part: they think they are guided.

This is not about people who know they are doing wrong and do it anyway. This is about people who have followed Shaitan’s logic so completely that it feels like wisdom. The Quraysh doing tawaf naked genuinely believed they were being more pure, more sincere before Allah. The logic made sense to them.

This is the danger of reason untethered from revelation. On an individual level, so many harmful things can seem reasonable. Take riba — interest. Two people agree, both are happy, both see benefit. What is the harm? But apply that same logic across an entire economy and you get 2008. Families losing homes. Businesses collapsing. Lives broken. The short-term individual logic disintegrates when it scales.

Our intellect is a gift. But it needs guidance. The Quran is that guidance. Without it, we are capable of convincing ourselves that almost anything is fine — and feeling guided the entire time.

Dress Nicely for Prayer

The Naked Tawaf — Continued

Last night we left off with the Quraysh practice of doing tawaf naked around the Kaaba. Tonight, a detail worth noting: the Quraysh themselves were exempt from this practice. They claimed to be the pure people of Makkah, above sin — so they could do tawaf in clothing. It was only the outsiders, the pilgrims who travelled from afar, who had to choose: strip down, or buy fresh garments from the Quraysh merchants.

A shameless practice, with a profitable business model built into it.

And when challenged, their answer was simple: our ancestors did this, and Allah commanded it.

Allah’s response was immediate: “Allah does not command shameless things. Are you saying about Allah what you do not know?”

This is the danger of reason untethered from revelation. The argument the Quraysh made — that you were born naked and sinless, so the purest worship is naked worship — has an internal logic to it. You can follow it step by step and almost be convinced. But it leads somewhere Allah never intended. Modesty is not a burden placed on human nature. It is human nature. The nafs, the animal side of us, knows no shame. Haya is what lifts us above it. When we strip away modesty, we strip away something uniquely human.

What Allah Actually Commands: Qist

“Say: My Lord commands justice — qist.”

Two Arabic words are both translated as justice in English: adala and qist. But they are not the same.

Adala is doing what is right at a given moment — even if one party walks away unhappy. A judge delivers adala. The winning side praises him. The losing side calls him the worst judge they’ve ever seen. That is the nature of adala — it is correct, but not always mutually satisfying.

Qist is higher. It is the middle path that brings both parties to a place of genuine acceptance. Not just legally correct, but humanly resolved. Adala is passing. Qist is excellent.

Allah commands us toward qist — in our worship, in our dealings, in how we carry ourselves in this world.

The Cure for Shamelessness

Here is what is striking. Allah has just spoken about shamelessness — the Quraysh doing tawaf naked, Shaitan’s mission to strip humanity of modesty. And what is the cure Allah prescribes?

Not a dress code. Not isolation. Not a list of prohibitions.

Prayer.

“Establish your faces at every masjid.”

The word masjid here goes back to its root — sajada, to prostrate. This surah is Makki; the only masjid at the time was Masjid Al-Haram, surrounded by 365 idols. So Allah is not speaking about a building. He is speaking about the act itself. Every time and place of sujud — turn yourself fully toward Allah.

And why wajh, face? Because the face is the most honourable part of a person. In Arabic, the most honourable portion can denote the whole. When you bring your face to the ground in sujud — the most honourable part of you touching the lowest point — that is the full surrender of the entire self.

This is how prayer protects us from shamelessness. Allah says elsewhere in the Quran that prayer prohibits a person from fahsha — from indecency and evil. But how? We all know people who pray and still fall into wrong.

The answer is in the word aqimu — establish. Not just perform. Not just go through the motions. To establish prayer is to be present in it. To actually stand before Allah, to speak to the Lord of the universe, to feel that you are seen.

Think about it this way: if you were called to the principal’s office this morning and firmly reminded of your responsibilities, how would you behave for the rest of the day? Even a difficult student behaves for at least a few hours after that meeting.

Now imagine the meeting is with the Lord of the universe. Every morning before sunrise. Fajr carries you through the morning. Then Dhuhr arrives before you can wander too far. Then Asr. Then Maghrib. Then Isha. If you are truly present in each one — truly establishing, not just performing — there is barely a gap for shaitan to work in.

The prayer, established with presence, is the antidote.

We Began Without Clothes — We Return Without Clothes

Allah closes this passage with a reminder: just as we entered this world, we will return to Allah. Naked. On the plains of Yawmul Qiyamah, everyone resurrected the same way.

Sayyidatuna Aisha asked: won’t we be ashamed — with everyone around us?

The Prophet ﷺ said: the day will be too great. No one will have the capacity to think about anyone else. Even the greatest prophets — Adam, Nuh, Ibrahim, Musa, Isa — when people come to them seeking intercession, they will say: nafsi, nafsi. Myself, myself. I have my own account to answer for.

Only the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ will say: this is what I was created for. And he will intercede.

On that day, the sun will feel as though it is a hand span above our heads. People will be drowning in their own sweat. But some will be shaded — elevated on hills, wearing shining crowns, alongside their spouses. People will look up and wonder who they are, what they did to deserve this.

They will be told: your children memorised the Quran.

If the parents of Quran memorisers are raised to such a station — what of the memorisers themselves?

It Is Never Too Late

The Prophet ﷺ received his first revelation at 40. Abu Bakr accepted Islam at 38. Neither said: I am too old for this.

If memorising the entire Quran feels out of reach, change the target. One ayah a day, understood deeply, revised slowly, carried with you. One juz a year. In thirty years, you have the whole Quran — memorised with comprehension, not just repetition.

And if life takes you before you finish? The Prophet ﷺ said that whoever makes a consistent effort toward something and is prevented from completing it, Allah will complete the reward for them.

Start. Stay consistent. Do not give up.

Anything attached to the Quran becomes elevated in the eyes of Allah.

We stopped here tonight. Tomorrow insha’Allah, we continue.

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Here’s the expanded version:

Tafsir Thursday — Surah Al-Muzammil: Stand Up, Pray, and Let Allah Handle the Rest

8th of Ramadan Reflections

We’re one week into Ramadan. If you started slow — that’s okay. Ramadan is a marathon. You start steady and sprint towards the end. What we don’t want is the opposite: starting strong and slowly fading — attending Taraweeh in the first few nights then drifting away, stopping the extra prayers, and then preparing more for Eid than seeking out the blessings of the last ten nights. The goal is for the last night of Ramadan to be the best night of our Ramadan.

The Prophet ﷺ said that whoever stands up and prays at night in the nights of Ramadan, expecting reward only from Allah — with sincerity, purely for His sake — Allah will forgive all their past sins. So no matter how tired we are, no matter how early Suhoor is or how hot the day gets at 38 or 39 degrees, we should make sure we stand some extra rakat after Isha. Even just two, four, or six — whatever we can manage. Don’t make Ramadan nights just like the nights of other months. This is our worship festival. Make it special.

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The Command to Stand at Night

Surah Al-Muzammil opens with Allah commanding the Prophet ﷺ to stand and pray through most of the night — except for a little. And what was he doing in those long hours of prayer? Reading Quran.

This is the best thing we can do at night: read Quran in our prayers. If we’ve memorised, this is where we test and revise our memorisation. If we haven’t memorised much but can read fluently, it is permitted to read from a mushaf — Sayyidatuna Aisha had one of her servants lead prayer while reading from one. The key is to have everything ready and in place, and to be careful with excessive movement.

But why this command? Because Allah says: We are going to send down upon you heavy ayat. A serious, challenging mission. The Prophet ﷺ was being prepared to change the world. And the preparation wasn’t political strategy — it was night prayer, Quran, and dhikr.

This is the prophetic formula: to face a difficult day, strengthen the ruh the night before.

Dhikr: The Only Command Allah Tells Us to Do Abundantly

Allah then says: Wadhkur isma Rabbik — and make mention of the name of your Lord. SubhanAllah, walhamdulillah, wa la ilaha illAllah, wallahu Akbar.

Dhikr holds a unique place among all the acts of worship in the Quran. Allah commands prayer, and prayer is essential — Aqimi as-salata li dhikri, establish the prayer to remember Me. But when it comes to dhikr, Allah says to remember Him katheeran — abundantly. It is the only act of worship in the Quran that Allah commands us to do in abundance.

And then: Wa tabattal ilayhi tabteela — devote yourself solely for Him. Who is He? Rabbul mashriqi wal maghrib — the Lord of the East and the West.

This week we read and dissect the tajweed rules in ayat 10 - 14 of Surah al-Muzzammil. When it comes to learning a new skill, like Quran reading, remember that consistency beats intensity. It is very important that we practice daily even if it is just for 10 - 15 minutes.

Where do you find strength when you’re overwhelmed?

In this week’s Tafseer Thursday, we dive into Surah Al-Muzammil — and the answer Allah gave the Prophet ﷺ when he was facing the hardest task of his life.

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The mission was heav…

Assalamualaikum,

It is Tuesday, that means it is time for Tajweed Tuesday. Last week we embarked our journey into Surah al-Muzzammil and read ayat 1 - 4.

This week, insha Allah, we will read ayat 5 - 9. If you are listening to this episode as a podcast, I highly recommend that you watch the video as there are some concepts that are easier to understand by seeing.

All right, without further ado, let’s get started. Remember, we are aiming for smoothness. Start slow as slow is smooth, and smooth is fast.

I’d like to also take this opportunity to wish all subscribers of Grounded, Ramadan Mubarak. It is really apt that we are studying this powerful surah as we enter the month of the Quran. The month where we spend our nights praying extra and reading more Quran — just like the surah suggests.

May Allah allow us to reach Ramadan and bless us with a fruitful Ramadan where we fast in a way that develops taqwa and spend our nights with the Quran.

Why Belief Must Come Before Practice: Introduction to Imam Al-Ghazali’s 40 Principles

Understanding the foundations of Islamic knowledge requires more than memorizing rulings or performing rituals. It demands a systematic approach to learning that begins with certainty in belief before moving to practice. This article explores the framework laid out in Imam Al-Ghazali’s The 40 Principles of Our Religion, examining why aqidah (creed) forms the essential foundation upon which all other religious knowledge is built.

The Three Dimensions of Islamic Practice

The Islamic tradition recognises three fundamental dimensions of religious life: Islam, Iman, and Ihsan. This framework, derived from Hadith Jibreel (known as Umm al-Sunnah), provides the organisational structure for understanding our religion.

Islam: The Science of Practice

Islam encompasses the ritualistic and practical aspects of religion, which later developed into the science of fiqh (jurisprudence). While four major schools of Islamic law are widely recognised today, the historical reality reveals far greater diversity. Scholars document more than 80 madhabs during the early period of Islamic intellectual development.

The survival of a legal school depends not on the Imam’s knowledge alone, but on the continuity of transmission. Consider the madhab of Imam Al-Layth ibn Sa’d: despite Imam Al-Shafi’i’s assertion that he was “afqahu min Malik” (more knowledgeable in fiqh than Imam Malik), his school did not survive because his students failed to continue the work.

The Importance of Unbroken Transmission

Contemporary practitioners receive their understanding of Islamic law through an unbroken chain of transmission (isnad) extending back to the founding Imams. For Shafi’i scholars, this means a documented chain of teachers and students from the present day all the way to Imam Al-Shafi’i himself.

This chain preserves not just the rulings, but the contextual understanding and technical terminology. Without this living transmission, legal texts become increasingly difficult to interpret accurately. Imam Al-Shafi’i’s magnum opus, Al-Umm, illustrates this challenge. Despite its importance, this foundational text is rarely taught in traditional Islamic circles today because the specific terminological framework has not been preserved in the same way as later works.

Legal terminology evolves across generations. Early scholars often used cautious language when discussing prohibitions, preferring phrases like “I dislike this” rather than definitively declaring something haram. This reflected both their taqwa (God-consciousness) and their reluctance to claim authority over matters of divine law. In communities with high levels of religious commitment, such subtle expressions were sufficient to guide behavior.

As communities changed, scholars adapted their pedagogical approach. The terminology became more explicit and categorical, even as the underlying rulings often became more accommodating. Imam Al-Nawawi’s strict position on Fatiha recitation—invalidating prayer for mispronouncing even a single letter—was later moderated by scholars like Imam Al-Haythami, who recognised that people from certain linguistic backgrounds might be physically unable to produce specific Arabic phonemes.

This adaptation reflects not inconsistency, but the dynamic nature of fiqh as a living discipline that must address the reality of Muslim communities. A contemporary example: visiting a remote fishing village in Malaysia, one encounters Imams who are part-time dive masters or boat captains, leading congregations where the recitation quality varies significantly. The fiqh tradition accommodates this reality while maintaining standards appropriate to each context.

Iman: The Science of Belief

Iman addresses matters of belief, formalized into the science of Aqidah. Within this domain, several schools of thought emerged:

Athari (textual): This approach relies primarily on scriptural authority. The Quran commands belief, therefore one believes. This circular reasoning functions effectively in majority-Muslim contexts where baseline assumptions about God’s existence and the Quran’s authority are shared cultural knowledge.

Ash’ari and Maturidi: These schools, founded by Imam Abu Hassan Al-Ash’ari and Imam Mansur Al-Maturidi respectively, integrate revelation with rational argumentation. This synthesis became necessary as Muslims encountered diverse philosophical traditions and needed to defend their beliefs through reasoned discourse.

Ihsan: The Science of Spiritual Excellence

Ihsan developed into the science of tasawuf (Islamic spirituality), which also encompasses multiple approaches:

The Salaf approach emphasizes wara’ (scrupulousness) and zuhud (asceticism). Note that “Salaf” refers to a historical period—the first three centuries of Islamic history—rather than the modern movement called “Salafism,” which emerged several centuries later.

Imam Al-Ghazali championed tazkiyah (purification of the soul), focusing on removing spiritual diseases from the heart and cultivating praiseworthy character traits.

The Falsafah (philosophical) school, represented most prominently by Ibn Arabi, engaged with metaphysical questions and influenced Islamic mystical thought, particularly in Ottoman territories.

This study focuses primarily on the tazkiyah tradition, as it addresses the practical work of spiritual development most directly applicable to contemporary Muslims.

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

Welcome back to Tafsir Thursday. We’re in a new year, a new term, and that means new surahs to explore together.

But this term is different. Instead of diving into one surah, we’ll be studying two: Surah Al-Muzzammil and Surah Al-Muddathir. Why two? Three reasons: first, they’re both relatively short. Second, their meanings are closely linked together. And third, in terms of chronology, these surahs were revealed back-to-back. They were among the earliest revelations to the Prophet ﷺ.

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The Context:

Before we dive into Surah Al-Muzzammil, we need to understand when and why it was revealed.

From a very young age, the Prophet ﷺ hated the evil practices in his community. He saw people worshipping idols, the rich abusing the poor, the powerful oppressing the weak. Women had no rights—treated as property, sold and traded. Children had no rights whatsoever. Daughters were buried alive.

He didn’t like it. But he couldn’t find a solution.

From age 35 onwards, he started doing spiritual seclusion. He would leave Mecca for days at a time, walk five or six kilometers outside the city, climb up a mountain, and settle in Cave Hira. There, he would worship Allah, make dua, and contemplate in the tradition of Prophet Ibrahim .

Until one night when he was 40 years old, during the month of Ramadan, he was visited by a creature he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t a human being. The Prophet later described this creature as huge—so massive that wherever he looked (up, down, left, right), he could only see this being. It had wings that engulfed the entire horizon.

The Prophet ﷺ was terrified.

This creature—the angel Jibreel—told him: ‘Read.’ The Prophet said, ‘I don’t read.’ The angel then hugged him so tightly he almost couldn’t breathe, then released him. Again: ‘Read.’ This happened three times. Then the angel recited the first five verses of Surah Al-Alaq, marking the beginning of revelation.

The Prophet didn’t know what had just happened. Had he gone crazy? Was he hallucinating? Was he possessed by jinn?

He rushed home trembling, shivering, terrified, and met his wife Khadija. He said to her: ‘Zammiluni’—cover me with a blanket, cloak me. And she did.

As the Prophet calmed down, Khadija asked what happened. He told her about the encounter in the cave. And she reassured him: ‘Allah will never abandon you, for you have the most beautiful akhlaq, the noblest of character.’

They went to meet Khadija’s uncle, Waraqah ibn Nawfal, a very learned man. Waraqah said: ‘You were visited by the very angels that came to Prophet Musa, Dawud, Isa, and all the previous prophets and messengers. That means you are a prophet, a messenger.’

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Welcome back to Tajweed Tuesday. As we begin a new term and a new year, we’re moving on to study fresh surahs. This term, we’ll explore two powerful chapters: al-Muzzammil and al-Muddaththir. Though relatively short, both contain profound meaning and hold special significance—they were revealed very early in Islamic history, sent down back to back.

Each Tuesday, we’ll follow our usual approach: reading the ayat of the week and exploring its tajweed rules. Remember to practice consistently and aim for fluency. As always, slow is smooth, and smooth is fast.

Alhamdulillah, this session marks the beginning of a new text in our weekly Ratib & Reminders gathering. For those based in Perth, you’re warmly invited to join us live at Qaswa House every Thursday from 7:00–9:00 p.m. The gathering is open to everyone — men and women, young and old.

After returning to Perth, it was a joy to be back at Ratib and to see the continuity of the program while I was away. We recently completed Arba‘ina Shamil fi Insanil Kamil, the 40 hadith on the perfection of Rasulullah ﷺ, and many were able to join the khatam we did live from Madinah. With that chapter completed, we now move into a new phase of study.

The most common request I receive is to study the works of Imam al-Ghazali. While his magnum opus Ihya’ ‘Ulum al-Din is one of the greatest works in Islamic scholarship, it is also vast — effectively forty books in one. For this reason, rather than beginning something we may struggle to complete, we’ve chosen a shorter, more focused text that reflects Ghazali’s core project.

Over the next two sessions we’ll introduce this new book and begin exploring its themes. After that, we’ll pause for Ramadan, as Ratib will be replaced by nightly taraweeh at Moresby Street Hall, Kensington, where we’ll be reading and briefly reflecting on Surah al-A‘raf. After Ramadan, inshaAllah, we’ll return to the text and continue the journey.

Imam al-Ghazali had a unique way of teaching. He often wrote large, comprehensive works, then summarised them into medium-length texts, and finally into concise versions meant to be memorised. His belief was that knowledge only truly becomes yours when it is internalised — when you live with it, not merely read it. This approach shapes the book we’ll be studying together.

The text we’ve chosen is Al-Arba‘in fi Usul al-Din (The 40 Principles of the Religion). Interestingly, it did not begin as a standalone book. It was originally written as an appendix to Jawahir al-Qur’an (The Jewels of the Qur’an). After guiding readers on how to approach and understand the Qur’an, Imam al-Ghazali addressed the next essential question: How do we live the Qur’an? These forty principles were his answer. Recognising their importance, he permitted the work to be published independently.

For many, especially those who went through traditional Islamic schooling in places like Malaysia, the content of this book will feel familiar. Much of classical Islamic education has been shaped, directly or indirectly, by Imam al-Ghazali’s framework.

To understand his project, we stepped back and looked at the foundation of Islamic scholarship itself — Hadith Jibril, often called Umm al-Sunnah. This hadith presents the religion through three inseparable dimensions: Islam, Iman, and Ihsan.

Islam refers to the outward actions of the religion — prayer, fasting, zakat, and hajj — which later became formalised as the science of fiqh. Iman addresses belief, engaging the intellect before settling in the heart, and developed into the science of ‘aqidah. Ihsan focuses on spiritual refinement: worshipping Allah as though you see Him, and knowing that He sees you even when you do not.

Over time, each of these dimensions developed its own sciences and terminology. These terms did not exist in the Prophet’s time, but they were created to preserve clarity and make learning accessible. Tasawwuf, when understood correctly, belongs firmly within this tradition — addressing the heart and soul, not as a replacement for fiqh or ‘aqidah, but as their completion.

Imam al-Ghazali lived during a period of deep fragmentation in the Muslim world — politically, intellectually, and spiritually. His life’s work was to bring these dimensions back together, showing that a sound religious life cannot survive on law alone, belief alone, or spirituality alone. Each needs the others.

It was during a profound personal crisis, after reaching the peak of his academic career, that Ghazali withdrew from public life for years of spiritual seclusion. From this period emerged Ihya’ ‘Ulum al-Din, the first work to systematically unite belief, practice, and spiritual purification into a single guide for living Islam.

Al-Arba‘in fi Usul al-Din is the distilled essence of that project. It is organised into forty principles: foundations of belief, guidance on practice, dangers on the path, and the means of salvation. This is the text we’ll be walking through together, slowly and practically, inshaAllah.

This session served as an introduction to both Imam al-Ghazali and the book we’ll be studying. We’ll continue next week, before pausing for Ramadan, and then resume the journey together.

I recently had the honour of serving once again as translator for Habib Kadhim as-Saqqaf — a blessing I never take for granted.

In 2022, Allah granted me the opportunity to welcome him to Perth for the very first time, and to serve as his translator during that visit. It remains a very precious moment in my life and one I am always grateful for.

And now, on his third visit, I was able to receive him at Qaswa House in full action — with over 200 members of our Qommunity present: students, parents, and families all gathered to benefit from his wisdom, character, and prophetic gentleness.

I am deeply thankful to Habib Kadhim for honouring us with his presence, and grateful to the team who made this trip possible — especially those who worked quietly and unseen in the background to make everything run smoothly.

To be able to serve a scholar of his stature is a gift I cannot repay.

To share that blessing with our Qaswa family makes it even more meaningful.

May Allah accept from all, keep us close to the people of knowledge, and allow us to honour them always.

In this episode, we recite and break down the first three āyāt, focusing on key Tajwīd principles such as:

* Nun Mushaddadah: Learn how inna is read with two harakāt of nasalisation (ghunnah) – not rushed, but softly and smoothly from the nasal passage.

* Makharij (Points of Articulation): Understand the correct way to pronounce letters like ḥā (from the middle throat) in fataḥnā and the ghayn in li-yaghfira (from the upper throat).

* Idghām and Iẓhār rules: Identify when merging is complete (like min dhambika into mim dhambika) and when letters are clearly separated.

* Mad Aṣlī (natural elongation): Spot the small alif or wāw that indicates a simple two-beat stretch.

Practical Tip:

🔁 Don’t rush your recitation. The golden rule is:

“Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.”

Break the ayah into chunks. Read slowly. Then combine. Tajwīd is about precision and beauty.

When we look at the sīrah, in the seventh year of Prophethood, the challenges facing the Muslims were unbearable.

At first, the Quraysh mocked and insulted. But when insults failed, by the fifth year they turned to violence—abusing, torturing, even killing some of the early Muslims. When that too didn’t stop the daʿwah, they escalated further: a total boycott against the Muslims and Banū Hāshim, the Prophet’s own tribe.

No one was allowed to buy from them, sell to them, marry them, or even speak to them. Forced into the valley of Abū Ṭālib, the Muslims suffered starvation. At night, the Quraysh could hear the cries of hungry children echoing from the valley. It became so unbearable that some of the Quraysh nobles themselves—polytheists, not Muslims—like Muṭʿim ibn ʿAdī and Zuhayr ibn Abī Umayyah, stood up and said: This is not right. These are our people, even if we differ in religion.

One day Zuhayr stood with his back to the Kaʿbah, facing the leaders of Quraysh. He declared: Our brothers and sisters are starving in the valley because of us. I will not sit down until this boycott is broken. And not long after, the boycott was lifted.

A Parallel to Today

Brothers and sisters—this was 1,400 years ago. Today, history repeats itself. Our brothers and sisters in Gaza are starving—not because of food shortage, but because food is blocked, burned, or left to rot. Just last month, 500 tonnes of food were discarded because of the blockade.

If Quraysh—who did not believe in lā ilāha illā Allāh—could act out of nothing more than blood ties, then what excuse do we have, we who claim faith? We say faith is thicker than blood—so why aren’t we doing more?

Acting Within Our Means

Yes, our anger is real. But we are Muslims—we act with discipline, bound by the Sharīʿah. That means we work within the legal framework of the country we live in. We don’t take matters into our own hands violently. Instead, we use the means available to us—and al-ḥamdu lillāh, here in Australia, there are means.

And we’ve seen this before in our history. When Jerusalem fell to the Crusaders in 1099, the Khalīfah in Baghdad was doing nothing. It was a single qāḍī, Abū Saʿd al-Ḥarawī, who mobilised the people. After Jumuʿah prayer, he gave speeches, organised protests, and led the masses to demand action from the Khalīfah. Week after week, protest after protest, until the Khalīfah was forced to act.

Power of Protest

That’s how politics works. Leaders move when people move.

We saw this not long ago in Sydney—hundreds of thousands marched across the Harbour Bridge. And within a week, the Australian government shifted its diplomatic stance. Suddenly, they were talking about recognising Palestine. Suddenly, they were criticising Israel—something unimaginable just months before. Why? Not because the Prime Minister had a dream, but because the people marched.

Call to Action – Perth Rally

So brothers and sisters, this Sunday, we have the chance to stand up and be counted. Yes, the weather forecast says it will rain. But what is rain? Just water. Al-ḥamdu lillāh, Allah created our skin waterproof.

Our brothers and sisters are rained upon with bombs and bullets. We will only be rained upon with water. So bring an umbrella, bring a jacket—and bring your friends. Convince those who’ve never attended a rally before. Come shoulder to shoulder with your fellow Australians, Muslim and non-Muslim alike, demanding justice for Palestine.

On Salahuddīn

Every time a calamity strikes Palestine, people ask: Where is our Ṣalāḥuddīn?

But Ṣalāḥuddīn did not appear in a vacuum. He didn’t descend from the sky with angels. He was the product of decades of groundwork. It started with people like Abū Saʿd al-Ḥarawī, who mobilised the grassroots. Then came Imām al-Ghazālī, who strengthened the ummah spiritually. Then Nūruddīn Zengī, who prepared the armies. All three passed away before Palestine was liberated. Ṣalāḥuddīn simply completed the work.

So the real question is not Where is Ṣalāḥuddīn? but What are we doing to build a Ṣalāḥuddīn for our time?

Accountability

On Yawm al-Qiyāmah, Allah will not ask us whether we liberated Palestine—that’s beyond our means. But He will ask: What did you do with what you could?

And even before the Day of Judgment, our children and grandchildren will ask us: You were alive during the genocide. What did you do? Will we say, I was busy on social media?

The Quraysh only heard the cries of hungry children. We see those cries broadcast live to our phones. If that doesn’t move us, what will?

Hope, Not Despair

Yes, the ummah is weak. Yes, we feel surrounded. But Allah reminds us: Do you think you will enter Jannah without being tested like those before you, until even the Messenger and those with him cried out: When will the help of Allah come? Verily, the help of Allah is near.

We are a people of hope, not despair. Even today we see results: countries shifting, governments changing tone, and even the most Islamophobic nations being forced to recognise Palestine.

Closing

So I end with the same question that Zuhayr once asked the Quraysh: Are we eating our food while our brothers and sisters are starving?

May Allah allow us to attend the rally in huge numbers this Sunday. May it be peaceful, impactful, and successful. May Allah open the hearts of our fellow Australians, and may He grant victory and liberation to our brothers and sisters in Palestine.

Welcome back to BeQuranic. In this session, we’re looking at our ayat of the week — verses 9 and 10 of Surah al-Ḥujurāt. Today’s focus is Tajweed: we’ll read the verses together, highlight key rules, and talk about how to practise them for fluency.

The Ayat of the Week

These are slightly longer verses, especially ayah 9, so it’s helpful to break them down in sections. We’ll read them slowly, paying attention to the points of stop and continuation.

﴿وَإِن طَآئِفَتَانِ مِنَ الْمُؤْمِنِينَ اقْتَتَلُوا فَأَصْلِحُوا بَيْنَهُمَا فَإِن بَغَتْ إِحْدَاهُمَا عَلَى الْأُخْرَىٰ فَقَاتِلُوا الَّتِي تَبْغِي حَتَّىٰ تَفِيءَ إِلَىٰ أَمْرِ اللَّهِ ۚ فَإِن فَاءَتْ فَأَصْلِحُوا بَيْنَهُمَا بِالْعَدْلِ وَأَقْسِطُوا ۖ إِنَّ اللَّهَ يُحِبُّ الْمُقْسِطِينَ (٩) إِنَّمَا الْمُؤْمِنُونَ إِخْوَةٌ فَأَصْلِحُوا بَيْنَ أَخَوَيْكُمْ ۚ وَاتَّقُوا اللَّهَ لَعَلَّكُمْ تُرْحَمُونَ (١٠)﴾

Tajweed Breakdown

Let’s go through the main rules you’ll encounter:

* Ikhfā’: in وَإِن طَآئِفَةً, notice the nūn sākinah before ṭā. That requires ikhfā’, a nasal sound.

* Madd wājib muttaṣil: in طَآئِفَةً and تَفِيءَ. The alif followed by a hamzah in the same word requires elongation of 4–5 counts.

* Madd jā’iz munfaṣil: in إِلَىٰ أَمْرِ اللَّهِ. The madd occurs at the end of one word, and the hamzah starts the next word.

* Qalqalah: in تَقْتَتِلُوا . Qalqalah produces a bouncing echo sound.

* Ikhfā’ of tanwīn: in إِخْوَةٌ فَأَصْلِحُوا, the tanwīn meets fā, so apply nasalisation.

* Lafẓ al-Jalālah: in وَاتَّقُوا اللَّهَ, the lām of Allāh is pronounced heavy (tafkhīm) after a fatḥah or ḍammah.

* Madd ‘āriḍ li-sukūn: in تُرْحَمُونَ, if you stop there, you can elongate 2, 4, or 6 counts.

Practice Tips

* Don’t force yourself to read the whole ayah at once. Break it into smaller phrases.

* Smooth out stumbles by repeating short sections until they flow naturally. For example:

* Start with wa-in → then wa-in ṭā’ifa → then wa-in ṭā’ifatāni.

* Once each piece is smooth, join them together.

* The aim is fluency with clarity. Tajweed is not about speed; it’s about balance, precision, and beauty.

Closing Reminder

These two ayat emphasise unity and reconciliation among believers. Practising them with Tajweed adds not just technical accuracy but also depth in reflecting on their meaning.

Take your time this week to master them. May Allah grant us fluency in His words and hearts that live by them.

We’ll continue on Tafseer Thursday, where we dive into the practical lessons from these verses.

Alhamdulillah, we praise Allah for allowing us to gather on this beautiful—if a little chilly—morning. Alhamdulillah for this amazing weather.

It was lovely to see the president of the Islamic society in red and white today. To our Indonesian brothers and sisters: Selamat Hari Kemerdekaan—Happy Independence Day. Eighty years since independence—may Allah keep your nation in peace and strength.

If anyone needs proof that Islam was not spread by the sword, just look at our region. You don’t find armies forcing Islam upon the people there. Rather, traders—many from Hadramawt in Yemen—came to the Indonesian archipelago. The Indonesians were impressed by their honesty and akhlaq. The sultans and rulers accepted Islam, and as was common then, when a king accepted a faith, much of his people followed.

Some argue, “But what about the Indian subcontinent—Pakistan and India—didn’t Islam spread there by northern armies?” Even there, the heart of Islam’s spread was da‘wah and reason, not compulsion.

Look at Syria and Egypt. Egypt was opened by ‘Amr ibn al-‘Ās in the time of ‘Umar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb. Syria and Damascus were opened by Khālid ibn al-Walīd. Muslims ruled those lands, yet it took 500 years before Syria became majority Muslim, and around 300 years for Egypt. If Islam were spread by force, everyone would have “converted” within decades. History shows otherwise.

Consider also the monastery of St Catherine in Sinai. It predates Islam, and they proudly claim to hold a letter from the Prophet ﷺ guaranteeing the safety of Christians in Egypt. Whether or not you accept the document, the point stands: Islam lived alongside other faiths. In greater Bilād al-Shām—what we call the Levant—multiple religions have long flourished.

A stable nation is a great blessing from Allah. One of the early scholars said: I make du‘ā’ for our rulers, that Allah rectifies their affairs. When asked, “Why not just make du‘ā’ for yourself?” he replied, “If I pray for myself, only I benefit. If I pray for the ruler, everyone benefits.” Even if a ruler is flawed, there is no harm in asking Allah to guide them and make them just—because a just leader benefits all.

When we talk about nation-states, let’s be honest: many borders are colonial lines. What separates Malaysia and Indonesia? We are one people in so many ways. We speak closely related languages. Historically, the region has been called by many names: the Malay world, the archipelago, even Jāwī—so scholars from our lands were known in the Arab world as “al-Jāwī,” whether they were Javanese, Malay, Bugis, Makassarese, or others. The difference between Malaysia and Indonesia today largely traces to the Dutch and the British.

So how do we relate to nation-states? Two extremes exist. One says, “There is no nation—only the Ummah—restore the Khilāfah now.” The other says, “I will die for this colonial line.” The truth, as our scholars remind us, is the balanced middle path. We are one Ummah of Muhammad ﷺ, and we also live in nation-states. Attempts to tear down states overnight have, in recent history, brought much harm. We live within reality while never forgetting the greater reality: every Muslim we meet is our brother or sister in faith, and that bond is sacred.

The Prophet ﷺ himself showed us how to balance love of homeland. He loved Makkah—his birthplace, the land of his ancestors, home of the Ka‘bah built by Ibrāhīm and Ismā‘īl. He left only because it became unsafe—he was forced out. On his way out he turned back and said, “O Makkah, had my people not expelled me, I would never have left you.” But when he migrated to Madīnah, he loved it too, and made du‘ā’: “O Allah, make us love Madīnah as we love Makkah, or even more,” and, “O Allah, bless Madīnah twice what You blessed Makkah.”

He became part of Madīnah’s community—integrating Muhājirīn and Anṣār, building a strong society—while his heart still loved Makkah. That’s balance.

Many of us here were born elsewhere—Malaysia, Indonesia, Lebanon, and beyond—and migrated to Australia. Love your country of origin; that’s natural and from the sunnah of fitrah. But also accept the reality: we live here now by choice. So contribute here. Build here. Strengthen community here. Loving Australia doesn’t mean hating your country of origin, and loving your homeland doesn’t mean ignoring the reality and responsibilities of this country that has given us so much. Ask: How can I make this country, this society, this community better?

I often say: loving the country you live in—serving it—is following the sunnah, because that’s what the Prophet ﷺ did in Madīnah. Wherever a Muslim goes, they make the place better. In Malay we say: a good seed grows wherever it lands—even on a mountain. That’s the believer: wherever we go, we leave goodness.

Today I want to focus on Sūrat al-Ḥujurāt—a chapter I call the community’s Standard Operating Procedure. It was revealed in late Madīnan years—around year 9 AH—barely over a year before the Prophet’s passing. Year 9 is known as ‘Ām al-Wufūd—the Year of Delegations—with tribes pouring into Madīnah to pledge allegiance: sometimes politically, sometimes religiously.

Look at the numbers to feel the context. In Makkah, after 13 years of da‘wah, roughly 80-plus men migrated with the Prophet ﷺ. Within two years in Madīnah, that number grew to around 300. At Uḥud, around 700 fought; by al-Khandaq, 3,000. At the Fath (Conquest) of Makkah in year 8, 10,000. By the Prophet’s Ḥajj in year 10, more than 120,000. Exponential growth. What fueled it? One key event was the Treaty of al-Ḥudaybiyyah in year 6: a period of peace. In times of war, growth was modest; in times of peace, da‘wah flourished. Islam spreads best with safety, honesty, and service—not with the sword.

Now to al-Ḥujurāt itself—“the Chambers”—named after the simple living quarters of the Prophet ﷺ. Despite becoming the most influential man in Arabia, his home was about 5m x 5m. Think of an IKEA showcase room—that’s roughly the size. Before Khaybar, the Sahābah often tied stones to their stomachs from hunger. After Khaybar, prosperity came to the community, but the Prophet’s personal lifestyle didn’t change. When his household’s income increased, he didn’t buy a bigger house or a fancier camel. He increased in infaq—in giving. Some of his wives understandably asked for more comfort. Allah revealed that the Prophet’s family are held to a higher standard, choosing Allah and the Ākhirah over worldly luxury. (Brothers, don’t take this as ammunition against your wives—we are not prophets, and our families are not the Mothers of the Believers. Balance is key. The Prophet also taught that the best charity is what you spend on your family.)

The sūrah begins: “O you who believe, do not put yourselves before Allah and His Messenger.” Our feelings and preferences take a back seat when the command of Allah and His Messenger is clear. But clarity matters—this is why the Ummah has tafāsīr and scholarship. In the time of ‘Alī and Mu‘āwiyah, the Khawārij claimed, “Back to Qur’ān and Sunnah!” ‘Alī brought the muṣḥaf and said, “Let the Qur’ān speak.” They said, “It can’t.” Exactly—we need scholars; the Qur’ān is interpreted and applied through qualified understanding.

Next, adab with the Prophet ﷺ: “Do not raise your voices above the voice of the Prophet…” The context: in the Year of Delegations, Abū Bakr and ‘Umar were assigning officials to receive tribes. Their discussion became loud—near the Prophet ﷺ. Allah revealed the warning that raising voices in his presence could nullify deeds. From then, they barely spoke above a whisper before him. One Companion with a naturally loud voice stopped attending the masjid out of fear. The Prophet ﷺ noticed his absence (as was his habit after ṣalāh) and reassured him.

How is this relevant now? When you visit al-Rawḍah in Madīnah, remember your adab—don’t push, don’t argue. And more broadly: respect the Sunnah and ḥadīth. Don’t weaponise ḥadīth to defeat one another. Imām Mālik would bathe, dress well, and apply perfume before narrating ḥadīth—because these are the words of the Prophet ﷺ. His mother told him when he was a child: “Learn your teacher’s manners before his knowledge.” Many giants of our tradition were raised by remarkable mothers—may Allah increase the piety of our families.

Now, the central ayah for our time—49:6:

If a fāsiq brings you news, verify (fatabayyanū), lest you harm people out of ignorance and become regretful.

Another qirā’ah reads fatathabbātū—establish the truth carefully. Both meanings are needed: verify the facts(tathabbūt) and clarify the context (tabayyun). Something can be factually true but contextually misunderstood. This ayah was revealed when a zakat-collector panicked at the stern-looking welcome of a Bedouin tribe, returned to Madīnah, and reported refusal to pay. War was nearly launched—until the matter was checked and clarified. It was simply a misreading of their manner.

Brothers and sisters, we live in an age of instant forwarding. “Shared as received” does not absolve us. Better not to share than to spread harm. The Prophet ﷺ said it’s enough falsehood for a person to relay everything they hear. We will be accountable for what we circulate.

Next, Allah addresses conflict: “If two groups of believers fight, make peace between them.” Note: believers—disagreement and even fights can sadly occur in this world. Our job is to be peacemakers—afshū al-salām—not arsonists who inflame tensions.

Then Allah forbids mockery, belittling nicknames, and demeaning jokes. A one-off joke may pass; repeated “teasing” cuts the heart. Joke with people, not at them. Give good nicknames—like the Prophet ﷺ did with Abū Hurayrah, “father of kittens,” because he loved cats.

Finally, the universal ayah—49:13:

“O mankind, We created you from male and female, and made you into peoples and tribes so that you may know one another…”

Islam doesn’t merely tolerate difference—it celebrates it. Li-ta‘ārafū—so you can truly know one another. Our diversity is a strength, not a weakness.

A small story from campus days: we used to hold ifṭār at the Hacker Café. When policy changes demanded payment for bookings, the Malays among us—known for adab and non-confrontation—were ready to accept and move on. Our Arab brothers said, “No, this is our right; let’s advocate.” Alhamdulillah, by different strengths working together, we kept the space. Sometimes a firm voice is needed; sometimes a calming voice. We need each other.

Even our food is multicultural. Malaysians and Indonesians love sambal, but chilli isn’t native to us—it came via Iberian traders after their colonisation of the Americas. They found it too spicy and passed it along; we said, “Bismillah—this is amazing!” Now, a meal without sambal hardly feels complete. That’s multiculturalism on a plate.

The Anṣār and Muhājirīn had different temperaments. The Prophet ﷺ praised the Anṣārī women for their confidence in asking questions—something Makkan women initially found difficult. Different strengths, one Ummah. Be like the beethat seeks flowers, not the fly that looks for wounds.

Even our differences in madhāhib and approaches are strengths. Teaching ‘aqīdah to children benefits from the clarity and simplicity associated with “Salafī” pedagogy; engaging philosophers and other faiths may require the tools preserved in Ash‘arī and Māturīdī kalām. In fiqh, our differences are a mercy. I came from a Shāfi‘ī background where Jumu‘ah requires forty settled men. Early on here, I looked out and counted twenty-eight—then remembered I hadn’t checked visa statuses! Alhamdulillah for Ḥanafī fiqh, where a much smaller number suffices. Our differences, handled with adab, make life easier, not harder. The line is only crossed when difference turns to violence or takfīr over minor issues.

Thank you for spending your precious, cold winter morning with me. We ask Allah to accept this from us.

We make du‘ā’ that Allah blesses Indonesia with peace, prosperity, and barakah for her people; that He blesses the entire Ummah; that He blesses Australia and guides its leaders to make wise decisions for the public good—not just for narrow economic interests of some quarter.

We ask Allah to protect our brothers and sisters in Palestine, especially Gaza. O Allah, they are hungry—feed them. They are surrounded from every direction—but all directions belong to You. Protect them. Grant the martyrs the highest Jannah. Reunite parents and children separated by rubble, and reunite us with them in Jannah. Do not let our hearts turn away from them when the world turns its back. Use us as means for their aid and liberation. Guide us, employ us in Your service, and accept from us, O Most Merciful.

Āmīn.

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh, and welcome back to BeQuranic.

It’s Thursday, and that means it’s Tafseer Thursday—where we go beyond recitation and Tajweed, and dive into the practical reflections that help us live the Qur’an every day.

This week, we’re looking at Ayat 6 to 8 of Surah al-Ḥujurāt. But before we jump into them, let’s do a quick…

We’re reading and breaking down Surah al-Ḥujurāt, verses 6 to 8. These āyāt are rich in Tajweed opportunities—perfect for practice.

🎯 Tajweed Focus

1. يَا أَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا

* This is a classic case of Mad Munfaṣil (detached).

* The word “يَا” ends in a mad and is followed by a Hamzah at the start of the next word: “أَيُّهَا.”

* You read this for four ḥarakāt, though up to six is also accepted.

2. آمَنُوا إِن جَاءَكُمْ

* “آمَنُوا” is Mad Badal, but in Ḥafṣ it’s read like Mad Aṣlī — simple two ḥarakāt.

* “إِن جَاءَكُمْ” starts with a nūn sākinah followed by jīm = Ikhfā’.

* “جَاءَكُمْ” is Mad Wājib Muttaṣil (required & connected)—must be read four or five ḥarakāt, not shorter.

3. فَتَبَيَّنُوا أَن تُصِيبُوا

* “فَتَبَيَّنُوا أَن” is again Mad Munfaṣil.

* The mad and Hamzah are in separate words.

* You may read four ḥarakāt; we keep it simple.

4. بِجَهَالَةٍ فَتُصْبِحُوا

* “جَهَالَةٍ فَتُصْبِحُوا” – Tanwīn + fā’ = Ikhfā’

* “فَتُصْبِحُوا” = Mad Aṣlī, basic two counts.

5. وَاعْلَمُوا أَنَّ فِيكُمْ رَسُولَ اللَّهِ

* “أَنَّ فِيكُمْ” – Idghām bi-ghunnah

* “رَسُولَ اللَّهِ” – Lafẓ al-Jalālah is heavy (mufakhkham) because the preceding vowel is a fatḥah.

6. وَزَيَّنَهُ

* “وزَيَّنَهُ” – we learn a new rule here:

* The هاء ḍamīr in “زَيَّنَهُ” or “حَبَّبَ إِلَيْكُمُ” is followed by a letter with ḥarakah.

* When it carries a small wāw or yā’, it becomes Mad Ṣilah.

* Ṣilah Qaṣīrah (short) if not followed by a hamzah = read two ḥarakāt

* Ṣilah Ṭawīlah (long) if followed by a hamzah = read four or more ḥarakāt

7. أُو۟لَـٰٓئِكَ هُمُ ٱلرَّٰشِدُونَ

* Mad Wājib Muttaṣil again in “أُو۟لَـٰٓئِكَ”

8. فَضْلًا مِّنَ ٱللَّهِ وَنِعْمَةً

* “فَضْلًا” – remember the ض sound is not a full stop and not a qalqalah. Extend the sound slightly, don’t cut it short.

9. وَٱللَّهُ عَلِيمٌ حَكِيمٌ

* All clean: Mad Aṣlī, Idhār on “ḥā’” from throat letter.

🧠 Key Takeaway

This set of āyāt has almost every major mad:

* Mad Aṣlī (natural)

* Mad Badal

* Mad Munfaṣil (detached)

* Mad Muttaṣil (connected)

* Mad Ṣilah (connecting mad)

* Ikhfā’, Idghām, Idhār, Iqlāb — you name it.

Great portion to revise and consolidate your Tajweed knowledge.

🗓️ What’s Next?

Join me again this Thursday for Tafsir Thursday, where we’ll explore the meanings and practical lessons from these very āyāt. It’s not about academic depth — it’s about becoming more Qur’anic.

Until then, keep practising, and may Allah beautify our tongues and hearts with the Qur’an.

والسلام عليكم ورحمة الله وبركاته

We’re going to dive into the meanings of the ayat we’ve been reciting this week, and explore the practical lessons we can take home and apply in our daily lives—so we can be more Qur’anic in how we live.

Today, insha’Allah, we’ll be looking at Ayat 3 to 5 from Surah al-Hujurat.

Surah al-Hujurat is a Madani surah—revealed in Madinah, and in fact, revealed …

Assalamu ʿalaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh,

Welcome back to BeQuranic. Apologies for the delayed post. I know today is Wednesday, but here you go, Tajweed Tuesday.

This week, we’re continuing our journey through Surah al-Hujurat, looking at Ayat 3 to 5. Let’s begin with the recitation of these verses, followed by a breakdown of the key Tajweed rules.

1. Ayah 3 – Pronunciation & Tajweed Focus

إِنَّ الَّذِينَ يَغُضُّونَ أَصْوَاتَهُمْ عِندَ رَسُولِ اللَّهِ أُولَٰئِكَ الَّذِينَ امْتَحَنَ اللَّهُ قُلُوبَهُمْ لِلتَّقْوَىٰ ۚ لَهُم مَّغْفِرَةٌ وَأَجْرٌ عَظِيمٌ

* إِنَّ – Wajib al-Ghunnah (with shaddah on the noon, held for 2 counts).

* الَّذِينَ – Madd asli on “الَّذِي” (basic elongation).

* يَغُضُّونَ – Note the ضاد, a thick letter produced by pressing the side of the tongue to the upper molars. Be careful not to turn it into a heavy د or make it a tip-of-the-tongue sound.

* أَصْوَاتَهُمْ – Ṣād is a heavy letter (tafkhīm). Remember, heaviness comes from the back of the tongue lifting, not from the lips. Don’t incorrectly say Aw-swaatah; say it clearly: Aswāta.

* رَسُولِ اللَّهِ – Here, the Lafdh al-Jalālah (the word “Allah”) is read lightly because it is preceded by a kasrah.

* أُولَٰئِكَ – This is madd wajib muttasil — when a hamzah follows a madd letter in the same word. Stretch it for fourcounts.

* قُلُوبَهُمْ – Madd asli on “قُلُو”.

* مَّغْفِرَةٌ – Idgham mithlayn sagheer (two meem coming together).

* وَأَجْرٌ – Qalqalah on the ج and Idgham bighunnah for the Tanween + و.

* عَظِيمٌ – Madd ‘āriḍ lis-sukūn at the end of the ayah if you stop.

2. Ayah 4 – Clarity in Recitation

إِنَّ الَّذِينَ يُنَادُونَكَ مِن وَرَاءِ الْحُجُرَاتِ أَكْثَرُهُمْ لَا يَعْقِلُونَ

* مِن وَرَاءِ – Idgham bighunnah because min + wāw.

* وَرَاءِ – Madd wajib muttasil – again, 4 counts due to the wave sign.

* أَكْثَرُهُمْ – Watch your ك here – don’t make it too heavy.

* يَعْقِلُونَ – Qaaf is a heavy letter. Lift the back of your tongue slightly to maintain correct tafkhīm.

3. Ayah 5 – Clear Articulation & Discipline

وَلَوْ أَنَّهُمْ صَبَرُوا حَتَّىٰ تَخْرُجَ إِلَيْهِمْ لَكَانَ خَيْرًا لَّهُمْ ۚ وَاللَّهُ غَفُورٌ رَّحِيمٌ

* أَنَّهُمْ – Wajib al-ghunnah on the shaddah.

* صَبَرُوا – Be sure the ṣād is heavy — lift the back of your tongue.

* تَخْرُجَ – Also has a خ, which is a heavy letter. Emphasise that thickness.

* إِلَيْهِمْ – Clear idh-har (no merging here).

* لَكَانَ – Madd asli

* خَيْرًا لَّهُمْ – Idgham bila ghunnah on tanween + lām. No ghunnah, just merger of sounds of ر and ل.

* وَاللَّهُ – Here the Lafdh al-Jalālah is heavy because it’s preceded by a fatḥah.

* غَفُورٌ رَّحِيمٌ – No ghunnah idgham on the shaddah in r-rahīm.

🧠 Key Tajweed Reminders:

* Madd asli: Basic elongation (2 counts)

* Madd wajib muttasil: Stretch for 4 counts (madd meets a hamzah in one word)

* Wajib al-ghunnah: Hold nasal sound (like in inna, anna) for 2 counts

* Idgham bighunnah: Merge with nasalisation (noon/tanween into yā, mīm, nūn, or wāw)

* Qalqalah: Bouncing effect on ق ط ب ج د (especially when sakinah or at pause)

* Heavy letters: Use the back of the tongue (like خ, ص, ض, ط, ظ, غ, ق)

* Lafdh al-Jalālah (Allah): Light if preceded by kasrah, heavy otherwise

Homework:

* Practise reading all 3 ayat again slowly and fluently.

* Pay attention to your tongue placement and stretching the correct letters.

* Don’t rush through the recitation — focus on clarity and smoothness.

See you Thursday for Tafsir Thursday, inshaAllah!

Wassalamu ʿalaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

Don’t Give Up: Hope in Bleak Times

Bismillah.

The past few weeks have been incredibly difficult for the Ummah — especially for our brothers and sisters in Gaza.

And it’s not just these few weeks. It’s been 23 months. Almost two years of relentless destruction. Every time we think we’ve seen the worst, we’re proven wrong. Every time we think we’ve hit rock bottom, Israel and the powers that support her prove that evil has no limit.

We are now witnessing full-blown famine. Starvation. Infants with nothing between their skin and bones. And on top of that — we hear of America burning 500 tonnes of food rather than allowing it to reach Palestine.

At times like this, it’s tempting to throw in the towel. To say:

“We’ve done everything we can.”

“We’ve shouted, we’ve protested, we’ve boycotted, we’ve flooded social media.”

And yet, the powers that be… remain.

But when that sense of despair starts creeping in, we must pause. We must take a step back and remember:

We are looking through the lens of our short lives.

We live 60, 70 years — maybe 50 as adults — and from that narrow perspective, it feels like there’s no hope. But history tells a different story. When we zoom out, we see a sunnah of Allah unfold:

Evil never wins in the end.

No matter how powerful. Fir’aun claimed he was God Most High — Allah destroyed him. Yet many lived and died under his tyranny and may have thought:

“Where is Allah’s help?”

“Where is our du‘a?”

Allah addresses this feeling directly in the Qur’an — in the verse I opened with. He speaks of previous nations, believers who were so shaken by hardship that even their Prophets asked, “When will the help of Allah come?”

And Allah replies:

“Indeed, the help of Allah is near.”

But near from whose perspective? Not always ours.

That’s why in Surah Ibrahim, Allah reminds us:

“Do not think that Allah is unaware of the actions of the oppressors. He is merely delaying them for a Day when eyes will stare in horror.”

We are people of hope. We do not despair when times get tough. And in this brief khutbah, I want to share three points in history to remind us: we carry the torch of hope.

1. The Trench in the Cold of Medina

Year 5 after Hijrah.

The Battle of the Trench.

After the losses at Uhud, Quraysh saw an opportunity to wipe out Islam. They gathered the largest army Arabia had ever seen: 10,000 strong. They were backed by Banu Ghatafan from the north, and allied with Jews from Khaybar, including Banu Qurayzah from within Medina.

Rasulullah ﷺ had only 3,000 companions to defend the city. It was winter. The Sahaba were hungry, cold, and exhausted. Salman al-Farisi suggested digging a trench — a Persian military tactic. And they did. Day and night. Starving, shivering, digging non-stop.

Then they hit a boulder they couldn’t break. They called the Prophet ﷺ. He struck it once — a spark flew.

“Allahu Akbar!” he cried.

A second strike — another spark.

“Allahu Akbar!”

Third strike — the boulder shattered.

“Allahu Akbar!”

The companions asked: What was the takbir about?

Rasulullah ﷺ said:

* With the first spark, I saw Persia falling to the Muslims.

* With the second, Rome.

* With the third, Yemen.

In the darkest moment, he gave them light. He gave them vision.

He didn’t just say “Have hope.”

He gave them reasons to hope.

And history proved him right. Islam triumphed. Not through numbers, but through divine help — a storm that forced the enemy to retreat. A month-long siege broken without a single full-scale battle.

2. The Fall of Baghdad (1258 CE)

Hulagu Khan — grandson of Genghis Khan — invaded Baghdad.

Within days, 800,000 were slaughtered.

Libraries burned. Books tossed into the Tigris until the river ran black with ink.

Muslim writers thought it was the end of time.

Non-Muslim historians wrote:

“This is the day Islam died.”

But Islam didn’t die.

Baghdad fell, but Cairo rose. So did Damascus. The Delhi Sultanate grew. And from these ashes, the Ottomans would eventually rise.

Even Hulagu’s cousin, Berke Khan, accepted Islam.

Within a generation, the very dynasty that destroyed Baghdad became a Muslim dynasty.

And amidst all of this — scholars kept working.

* Imam al-Nawawi, who focused on preserving and teaching knowledge.

* Ibn Taymiyyah, the scholar-warrior.

* Ibn Ata’illah, who focused on tazkiyah and purifying hearts.

* Al-‘Izz ibn ‘Abd al-Salam, who spoke truth to power and engaged with the rulers .

Despite the devastation, they didn’t stop. They carried on.

3. The Fall of Apartheid (1994)

From 1948 — the same year Israel was created — South Africa began enforcing apartheid. For decades, the people resisted: boycotts, protests, global pressure.

In 1994, apartheid fell.

The same Nelson Mandela who was once branded a terrorist by the West was now hailed as a hero — by the very same powers that had supported the apartheid regime.

Let that sink in.

The same powers that supported apartheid in South Africa are the ones supporting apartheid in Palestine today.

And just like before — they can be defeated.

Social Media: Double-Edged Sword

Today, we have a powerful tool: social media. It’s helped shift global opinion. It’s brought awareness.

But it’s also draining us.

We doomscroll.

We see starvation, death, suffering — again and again.

Two things happen:

* We either fall into despair…

* Or we become numb.

We start thinking this is normal.

So yes — use social media, but set a limit. 15 minutes. Half an hour. Post, share, amplify — and then get back to work. Real work.

Know Your Role, Play Your Part

Not all resistance looks the same.

Imam al-Nawawi didn’t fight with swords. He wrote books that still strengthen the Ummah today.

Ibn Taymiyyah led at the frontlines.

Ibn Ata’illah focused on hearts.

Al-‘Izz ibn ‘Abd al-Salam engaged with the rulers.

Some of us are better behind the scenes. Some are activists, some are scholars, some are thinkers, some are organisers. Some are better on the mic, others behind a pen.

Don’t judge someone’s contribution just because it’s not the same as yours. We need all hands on deck.

“Allah will not ask you about what you couldn’t do — but He will ask what you did with what you could.”

May Allah give victory to the oppressed.

May He feed the hungry, clothe the exposed, and strengthen the weak.

May He unite our ranks and guide our efforts.

May He grant us clarity, discipline, and sincere hearts in service of this Ummah.

Welcome back to BeQuranic. This term, we’re diving into Surah al-Hujurat, a short but powerful surah that speaks directly to the heart of what it means to live as a Muslim — not just with belief, but with adab (proper conduct).

Last term we explored Surah al-Waqi‘ah, where we reflected on the categories of people in the Hereafter. Now, we’re bringing the…

السَّلَامُ عَلَيْكُمْ وَرَحْمَةُ اللَّهِ وَبَرَكَاتُهُ

We’ve kicked off Term 3 of the BeQuranic journey, and this term we’ll be diving into Surah al-Ḥujurāt — a short but deeply powerful surah, full of lessons on adab, respect, and community.

This week, we’re beginning slowly and deliberately with just the first two ayāt. Why? Because each line is loaded with both tajwīd gems and practical life reminders — so we want to sit with them, reflect, and read with clarity.

Tajwīd Highlights This Week

We started by revising two key etiquette phrases that open every recitation:

* Al-Isti‘ādhah: أَعُوذُ بِاللَّهِ مِنَ الشَّيْطَانِ الرَّجِيمِ

* Basmalah: بِسْمِ اللَّهِ الرَّحْمَٰنِ الرَّحِيمِ

From there, we explored several tajwīd rules in-depth:

* Madd Jā’iz Munfaṣil: Appears in phrases like “يَا أَيُّهَا”, requiring a 4-beat stretch.

* Lafdh al-Jalālah (اللَّه): Read heavy if preceded by a fatḥah or ḍammah, light if preceded by a kasrah.

* Ghunna with Shaddah: Don’t cut the ghunna short in phrases like “إِنَّ اللَّهَ” — stretch it with intent.

* Idh-hār with ḥalqī letters: Recognising throat letters (ع، ح، غ، خ، ه، ء) helps avoid nasalisation where it doesn’t belong.

* Rules of Rā’: When to read it heavy vs. light depending on the vowel before it.

We also worked through tricky sections like:

يَا أَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا لَا تُقَدِّمُوا بَيْنَ يَدَيِ اللَّهِ وَرَسُولِهِ

وَلَا تَجْهَرُوا لَهُ بِالْقَوْلِ كَجَهْرِ بَعْضِكُمْ لِبَعْضٍ

Your Assignment This Week

With only two ayāt, the focus is on smoothness and mastery.

Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast.

Break the verses down into parts, repeat them until you hit fluency, and pay attention to where you stumble. Work on those sections. Aim to iron out the kinks.

Even if you stutter — don’t be discouraged. The Prophet ﷺ said the one who struggles with Qur’an gets double the reward. But don’t settle. Keep refining.

See You Thursday

On Tafsīr Thursday, we’ll explore the meanings of these two opening ayāt: how they set the tone for respectful interaction with Allah and His Messenger ﷺ — and with one another.

Until then — rehearse, reflect, and get ready.

وَالسَّلَامُ عَلَيْكُمْ وَرَحْمَةُ اللَّهِ وَبَرَكَاتُهُ

We’ve reached the final portion of Surah al-Wāqiʿah, and it’s been a beautiful journey. Each week, we recited, studied Tajwīd, and reflected practically on what these ayāt mean for our lives.

Tajwīd Highlights

* Madd Munfasil vs Muttasil:

If the wave sign (madd) is in two words, it’s munfasil → read 4 harakat.

If it’s in one word, it’s muttasil → read 4 harakat.

I keep it simple: when you see the wave, go 4 — unless there’s a shaddah or sukun, then it’s 6.

* Heavy Letters like ص (Ṣād):

You lift the back of your tongue, not your lips.

Don’t shape it like “soo” — it’s not lip work, it’s tongue elevation.

* Light Letter vs. Heavy:

Try saying س (Seen) and ص (Ṣād) back-to-back.

The makhraj is similar, but ṣād is heavier because of that tongue lift.

* Letter ض (Ḍād) – tricky but unique.

It’s not made with the tip — it’s the sides of the tongue touching the molars.

Push right or left, or both sides if you can.

There’s also a bit of stretch — not like dhal, not a heavy “d”, but truly ḍād.

* Idghām Without Ghunnah:

Example: Fasalāmun laka — tanwīn meets lām → merge it without nasal sound.

No humming here.

Tafsīr: Ayah 88 to 96

Previously, we looked at how Allah divided humanity into three groups on the Day of Judgement:

* As-Sābiqūn al-Muqarrabūn – the foremost in goodness, those drawn near to Allah.

* Ashābul-Yamīn – the people of the right, honoured and saved.

* Ashābush-Shimāl – the people of the left, those who face punishment.

We saw the signs in nature: fire, water, creation. The Qur’an kept asking us to reflect. These were not abstract reminders — they were close and real. The question remains: where do we stand?

The Qur’an and the Stars

Earlier in this passage, Allah took a unique oath:

فَلَا أُقْسِمُ بِمَوَاقِعِ النُّجُومِ

Then I swear by the positions of the stars –

وَإِنَّهُ لَقَسَمٌ لَّوْ تَعْلَمُونَ عَظِيمٌ

And indeed, it is a great oath, if you only knew.

Allah is linking the stars to the Qur’an. Why?

Like the stars, the Qur’an from afar can look like a beautiful mess — dazzling, but hard to make sense of.

But if you study the stars, you find direction. They guide travellers at sea and in the desert. Likewise, if you study the Qur’an, it becomes your compass. You begin to see the inner structure, the ring composition, the coherence.

We need to dig deeper. The Qur’an is not for the lazy. It calls us to think, reflect, and remember.

What Are You Waiting For?

Allah ends the Surah by asking us:

أَفَبِهَـٰذَا ٱلْحَدِيثِ أَنتُم مُّدْهِنُونَ

Is it this statement (Qur’an) that you take lightly?

And then reminds us of the moment of death:

فَلَوْلَا إِن كُنتُمْ غَيْرَ مَدِينِينَ . تَرْجِعُونَهَا إِن كُنتُمْ صَـٰدِقِينَ

Then why, if you are not to be recompensed, do you not return the soul – if you are truthful?

This is the challenge. If we truly had power, we could stop death. But we can’t.

We now reach the final ayat of Surah al-Wāqiʿah, and once again, Allah brings our attention to the three categories of people.

1. The Muqarrabūn

For the ones nearest to Allah, they receive:

فَرَوْحٌ وَرَيْحَانٌ وَجَنَّةُ نَعِيمٍ

Then [for him is] rest and bounty and a garden of pleasure.

These are people who go above the bare minimum. They chase virtue — extra prayers, fasting, charity — and draw close to Allah through constant remembrance and Qur’an.

2. Ashābul-Yamīn

فَسَلَامٌ لَّكَ مِنْ أَصْحَابِ الْيَمِينِ

“Peace for you” — from the people of the right.

They fulfilled their obligations. They weren’t perfect, but they remained faithful and upright.

3. The Deniers and the Misguided

وَأَمَّا إِن كَانَ مِنَ الْمُكَذِّبِينَ الضَّالِّينَ

But if he is from those who denied and were astray…

They receive the opposite: punishment with scalding water and burning fire.

Note how both traits are mentioned: denial and misguidance. It’s not just about not knowing — it’s rejecting after knowing.

According to Imām al-Ghazālī, before a person is truly culpable for disbelief, five conditions must be met:

* The message reaches them.

* It is explained reasonably.

* Doubts are clarified.

* Time is given.

* They still choose to reject.

Yaqīn — The Stages of Certainty

Allah ends the Surah by declaring:

إِنَّهُۥ لَحَقُّ ٱلْيَقِينِ

This is the certainty of truth — ḥaqq al-yaqīn.

The Qur’an speaks of three levels of yaqīn (certainty):

* ʿIlm al-yaqīn — certainty through knowledge (e.g. seeing smoke and knowing there’s fire)

* ʿAyn al-yaqīn — certainty through seeing (you see the fire itself)

* Ḥaqq al-yaqīn — certainty through experience (you touch the fire — and you’re burned)

We’re meant to reach yaqīn through study and reflection, not wait for divine intervention or signs in the sky. That’s why Allah constantly invites us to think.

Dhikr Challenge

Try to say “ِسُبْحَانَ اللهِ وَبِحَمْدِهِ سُبْحَانَ اللهِ الْعَظِيْم (SubḥānAllāh wa bihamdihi SubḥānAllāhi L-Azim)” 100 times in the morning.

Make it a daily habit.

فَسَبِّحْ بِاسْمِ رَبِّكَ الْعَظِيمِ

So glorify the name of your Lord, the Most Grea

A Final Du‘ā

اللَّهُمَّ ٱجْعَلْنَا مِنَ ٱلْمُقَرَّبِينَ، وَمِنْ أَصْحَابِ ٱلْيَمِينِ، وَنَجِّنَا مِنَ ٱلضَّالِّينَ

O Allah, make us from those drawn near, from the people of the right, and protect us from being among the misguided.

Next Week: Surah al-Ḥujurāt

Next week, we begin a new series — Surah al-Ḥujurāt. It’s a short surah, but packed with guidance on adab, community ethics, and dealing with others.

See you then, in shā’ Allāh.

Reflections beneath the stars.

I’m writing this fresh after recording beneath a night sky filled with stars, away from the city lights, where the beauty of Allah’s creation overwhelms the heart and opens the soul.

In this week’s Tafsir Thursday, we explore one of the most awe-inspiring passages in Surah al-Wāqi‘ah: Allah swearing by the constellations of …

We’re almost at the end of Surah al-Wāqiʿah and Term 2 of 2025. Apologies for missing last week’s episode—I got caught up with work. But alhamdulillah, we’re back to wrap up the surah over the next two weeks, inshaAllah.

📖 Ayat of the Week

This week we’re covering Surah al-Wāqiʿah, Ayat 83 to 87.

🧠 Tajwīd Highlights

* Long Madd

Anytime you see a wavy line ( ~ ) over an alif or small wāw/ya:

→ Read 4 harakāt (unless it’s followed by a shaddah/sukūn → read 6).

* Ikhfāʾ Ḥaqīqī

Noon sākin or tanwīn meeting any of the 15 letters of ikhfāʾ.

Example:

→ مِنكُم – hide the n sound while shaping your mouth for the kāf

* Idghām (With & Without Ghunnah)

* Yarmalūn letters = merge the noon/tanwīn.

* With ghunnah: yā, mīm, nūn, wāw

* Without ghunnah: rā, lām

* Qalqalah Letters (ق ط ب ج د)

Bounce slightly when these letters are sakin, like in أَقْرَبُ or تُكَذِّبُونَ

* Mīm Sākin Rules

* Meets bā or another mīm = ghunnah

* Meets other letters = iẓhār (clear)

📝 Recitation Practice Tip

Don’t rush through all the ayat. Take one ayah at a time:

* Break it into 2-3 parts

* Repeat slowly until it’s smooth and fluent

* Join all parts once fluent

Example breakdown:

→ فَلَوْلَا إِذَا بَلَغَتِ الْحُلْقُومَ

Break down into:

* Falawla

* Iza

* Balaghatil hulqum

Then build fluency step by step.

📅 What’s Next?

We’ll continue with the final section of Surah al-Wāqiʿah next week, inshaAllah.

And remember:

✅ Tajwīd = correctness

✅ Fluency = confidence

✅ Repetition = mastery

🎧 See you on Thursday for Tafsir Thursday!

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

Rasulullah ﷺ began looking for a new base for Islam because of the intense persecution Muslims faced in Makkah. In the 10th year of prophethood, his uncle Abu Talib — the leader of Banu Hashim, the Prophet’s tribe — passed away. At that time, Makkah had no judicial system: your safety depended entirely on your tribal protection. As long as your tribe protected you, no one would harm you because your tribe could avenge any harm done.

When Abu Talib passed away, leadership of Banu Hashim went to Abu Lahab, who refused to protect the Prophet ﷺ. With no protection, the Prophet’s life was in danger. He went to Ta’if, hoping for refuge, but the people of Ta’if rejected him. He returned to Makkah with nowhere to turn, rejected by the people on earth.

So, in the 11th year of prophethood, he adopted a new strategy: during Hajj, he would go to Mina, where tribes from all over Arabia camped in tents for three or four nights. He approached them one by one, seeking a tribe that would accept Islam and provide protection.

First, he approached Banu Kindah — a once-powerful tribe that had lost its influence. The Prophet saw an opportunity for Kindah to regain prominence through Islam. Kindah, however, saw it only as a political opportunity: they told the Prophet they’d support him if leadership would pass to them after his death. The Prophet ﷺ refused, saying power belongs to Allah, who grants it to whomever He wills.

He then approached Banu Shaiban ibn Tha’labah. Sayyidina Abu Bakr described them as the most virtuous and intelligent tribe in Arabia. The Prophet invited them to Islam and to become a new base for Muslims. But Banu Shaiban were bound by treaties with Rome and Persia, which they feared breaking if they supported the Prophet. They asked him to give them more time. The Prophet left, having been rejected again.

On his way out, he met six men — not from a large or powerful tribe, but from the Khazraj. When the Prophet asked, “Who are you?” they replied, “We are Khazraj.” The Prophet ﷺ confirmed, “Khazraj living among the Jews?” They answered yes. Unlike the powerful tribes, these six men listened attentively to the Prophet’s message. They didn’t accept Islam immediately but were intrigued, promising to meet him the following year.

They returned to Yathrib (Medina’s old name) and shared the Prophet’s message with their families. The next year, 12 people from Yathrib came to pledge allegiance to the Prophet ﷺ and accepted Islam. They asked the Prophet to send a teacher, and he sent Sayyidina Mus’ab ibn Umair, who led the first da’wah mission in Yathrib.

The following year, in the 13th year of prophethood, 75 people from Yathrib came to pledge allegiance to the Prophet ﷺ — most from Khazraj, some from Aus. During the pledge, someone among them said: “How can we live safely in Medina while our Prophet remains oppressed in Makkah?” They invited the Prophet ﷺ to migrate. And the rest, as we say, is history: the Prophet ﷺ began encouraging companions to migrate, and eventually, Allah granted him permission to migrate himself.

My dear brothers, this story teaches us powerful lessons:

First, never underestimate small numbers. When building community strength, it’s logical to seek powerful allies — and we should. But never forget the power of quality over quantity. The Prophet approached the mighty Kindah and wise Shaiban but didn’t dismiss the small group of six sincere Khazraj. As we build our community, don’t neglect people who may not seem influential today but are sincere seekers of truth.

Second, community building requires cohesive teamwork across all segments of society. During the hijrah, the Prophet ﷺ worked with:

* Sayyidina Abu Bakr, representing the elders.

* Youth like Abdullah ibn Abu Bakr, who delivered food.

* Sayyidatuna Asma bint Abu Bakr, a young woman who gathered intelligence.

* Sayyidina Ali, a young man who risked his life sleeping in the Prophet’s bed.

* Abdullah ibn Urayqid, a skilled non-Muslim guide who honored his trust with the Prophet.

The hijrah shows that everyone — elders, youth, men, women, Muslims, and even trustworthy non-Muslims — can contribute meaningfully to a cause. We cannot afford divisions: elders must not hoard power, and youth should not sit on the sidelines criticising. Both must collaborate.

Third, when the Prophet ﷺ reached Medina, the first thing he built wasn’t his own house — it was a masjid. After the masjid, he demarcated an area for a market. These two pillars — spiritual strength and economic strength — must go hand in hand.

Our masajid should be open, welcoming, and function as community hubs. They should host worship, education, and community activities. But we must also build our economic strength: as a minority community, politicians won’t listen to us because of our numbers, so we need economic power. This requires pooling our diverse talents — from money to skills — to establish projects that empower our community.

In summary, here are the three key lessons from the hijrah:

* Never underestimate the potential of small, sincere groups — success doesn’t rely solely on numbers.

* Build cohesive communities by involving people of all backgrounds, ages, genders, and talents.

* Prioritise both spiritual and economic strength; they are inseparable for a thriving community.

أقول قولي هذا وأستغفر الله لي ولكم.

Welcome back to BeQuranic. Today is Tuesday, and that means it’s time for Tajweed Tuesdays.

This week, we’ll be reading our Ayat of the Week — Surah al-Waqi‘ah, verses 75 to 82 — and then we’ll dissect some of the tajweed rules inside these verses.

We’re coming close to the end of Surah al-Waqi‘ah, and that also means the end of this term, inshaAllah. So let’s really focus and try to master the tajweed in these final ayat.

Let’s get reading…

Remember, the aim is not just to memorise the rules, but to read fluently with correct tajweed. Start slowly, break down each ayah, apply the rule, and repeat until your reading is smooth and confident.

Jazakum Allahu khayran for tuning in to Tajweed Tuesdays.

See you on Thursday, inshaAllah, for our Tafsir session.

Welcome back to BeQuranic — where we don’t just read the Qur’an, we try to live it.

Today is Tafsir Thursday, and we’re catching up on the second half of Surah al-Waqi‘ah — from verse 58 to 74. These verses shift from describing people of the Hereafter to presenting a powerful series of reminders from nature.

The tone changes. Now Allah is asking us — ref…

Today is Tajweed Tuesday, and that means it’s time to dive into the recitation and rules of the Qur’an — not in a complicated, academic way, but in a practical way that helps us all recite with confidence, clarity, and fluency.

This week’s Ayat of the Week comes from Surah al-Waqi‘ah, verses 68 to 74. It’s a shorter passage than usual, which means we can take our time and really focus on perfecting our Tajweed.

Practice Tips

* First, slow down and get your articulation correct.

* Then repeat until you’re smooth and fluent.

* Read with intention, not just mechanically. This is Qur’an — the speech of Allah.

This week on Tafseer Thursday, we explored a powerful and sobering section of Surah al-Waqi‘ah — verses 41 to 56 — where Allah describes the fate of Ashab al-Shimal, the people of the left. These are the individuals who will receive their records in their left hands on the Day of Judgment — a sign of loss, disgrace, and eternal regret.

Allah asks with a …

Tonight, though, we’re going to take a step back from the rituals themselves. Instead, we’re diving into an incredible historical moment — one that didn’t just shape the Hajj… it changed the course of Islamic history forever.

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This moment happened on the last night of Hajj, 1,447 years ago.

It was the spark that led to the Hijrah — the Prophet’s migration to Madinah. And as we know, the Hijrah wasn’t just a journey; it was the turning point. So important, in fact, that the Companions later decided to mark it as year one in the Islamic calendar.

To really appreciate what happened that night, we need to rewind the story a bit — back two years before the Hijrah.

Rewinding to the Nights of Mina

As you may know, during Hajj, the pilgrims spend the 11th, 12th, and 13th nights of Dhul-Hijjah in Mina. Even today, that practice continues.

But let’s go back to the 11th year of Prophethood, a couple of years before Islam had a home in Madinah.

Every year during Hajj, tribes from across Arabia would travel to Mecca. And every year, the Prophet ﷺ would walk among them, calling people to Islam.

But that year, something was different.

The Prophet wasn’t just doing da’wah — he was also searching for a tribe that would adopt and protect him. Why? Because just a year earlier, in the 10th year of Prophethood, the Prophet ﷺ had lost his greatest worldly protector — his uncle Abu Talib.

Abu Talib, the chief of Banu Hashim, had shielded the Prophet from the worst of Quraysh’s violence. While others like Bilal, Sumayyah, and Abdullah ibn Mas’ud were tortured — often brutally — the Prophet was relatively protected due to Abu Talib’s status.

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But when Abu Talib passed away, his successor was Abu Lahab — a man who refused to support or protect Rasulullah ﷺ.

With no protection left in Mecca, the Prophet ﷺ went to Ta’if, hoping its people might offer refuge. But they rejected him and humiliated him.

Eventually, he returned to Mecca under the protection of Mut’im ibn ‘Adi, a nobleman from another tribe. It was only temporary — the Prophet knew he couldn’t count on Mut’im forever.

So he started reaching out to other tribes.

He approached Banu Kindah, a once-powerful tribe. They were interested… but they wanted power. They asked, “If we support you, will we be rulers after you?” The Prophet ﷺ replied, “That’s not for me to promise — that is for Allah to decide.”

Their intentions weren’t sincere, so he moved on.

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A Small Encounter with Big Consequences

And then — walking through Mina — the Prophet ﷺ noticed a small group: just six young men.

He asked them, “Who are you?”

They replied, “We are the Khazraj.”

The Prophet asked, “The same Khazraj who live near the Jews in Yathrib?”

They said, “Yes, we are from Yathrib.”

That caught the Prophet’s attention.

You see, the people of Yathrib had lived alongside the Jews for generations. They were familiar with the concept of prophethood, scripture, and divine revelation. And, at that time, Yathrib was suffering from ongoing tribal conflictbetween two Arab tribes — the Aus and the Khazraj. Many of their elders had been killed. The city was fractured, desperate for unity.

The Prophet ﷺ spoke to them about Islam — with the same sincerity and passion he had shown the big tribes.

And something clicked.

They didn’t pledge allegiance that year, but they said:

“Let us return to our people and speak to them. If it’s good, we’ll come back to you next year.”

Year 12 of Prophethood: Bay‘at al-‘Aqabah (1)

The next year, 12 people came back — most from Khazraj, some from Aus. They met the Prophet at night during the days of Mina and pledged allegiance.

This was the first Bay‘at al-‘Aqabah — named after the valley near Jamrat al-‘Aqabah, where the meeting took place. Today, that area has changed, but back then it was where the Hajj tents stood.

This first pledge was spiritual — they promised:

* Not to associate partners with Allah

* Not to steal or commit zina

* Not to kill

* To obey the Prophet in goodness

After that, they requested the Prophet ﷺ to send someone back with them to teach them Islam.

The Prophet chose Mus‘ab ibn ‘Umayr — a young, eloquent, wise man from Mecca. Mus‘ab went to Yathrib and taught, preached, built the foundation for what was to come.

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Year 13: Bay‘at al-‘Aqabah (2)

A year later, they came again — this time, with 75 people.

It was the 13th of Dhul-Hijjah, 13 years after revelation began.

They came by night, secretly, when all the other pilgrims were asleep. This time, they didn’t just want to learn Islam. They invited the Prophet ﷺ to migrate to their city, to Yathrib.

They said:

“It is unfair for us to be living in peace while our Prophet is being persecuted. Join us. Let us protect you.”

The Prophet ﷺ said:

“If I migrate to you, this pledge must not be just religious. It must also be political. You must defend me like you defend your own families.”

One of them asked:

“When Islam succeeds, will you leave us and return to Mecca?”

The Prophet ﷺ replied:

“Your blood is my blood. Your destruction is my destruction. We are one.”

And one by one, all 75 pledged their allegiance.

Then they all heard a loud scream from the middle of the desert.

Rasulullah ﷺ said:

“That scream you just heard — that was the scream of Iblis. He is furious that Islam has found a way out of Mecca.”

The Road Opens

From that point, the Prophet ﷺ began advising Muslims to migrate, one group at a time. Quietly, Muslims left Mecca and made their way to Yathrib.

Eventually, the Prophet ﷺ himself made hijrah. He left Mecca a few months later, in Rabi‘ al-Awwal, and arrived in Yathrib — soon to be renamed al-Madinah al-Munawwarah.

This moment changed everything.

Islam went from being an oppressed minority to a rising force of justice — spreading across Arabia, and soon, to much of the world.

That night — the 13th of Dhul-Hijjah, 1,447 years ago — in the small valley of Mina, the road to hijrah began.

It wasn’t part of the Hajj rituals —

But it was written into the destiny of this Ummah.

That’s all for tonight’s episode of Road to Hajj.

Thanks for reading BeQuranic! This post is public so feel free to share it.

Welcome back to BeQuranic. Today is Tuesday, which means it’s time for Tajweed Tuesday!

We’ll start by reading our ayat of the week, then we’ll break them down together and go through some of the Tajweed rules hidden within. This week, we’re looking at Ayahs 57 to 67 from Surah al-Waqi‘ah.

Let’s begin with isti‘aadhah:

أَعُوذُ بِاللَّهِ مِنَ الشَّيْطَانِ الرَّجِيمِ

Now let’s dive into the Tajweed breakdown:

نَحْنُ خَلَقْنَاكُمْ

Notice the qalqalah on the letter qāf in khalaqnā. That bouncing sound is key. Don’t read it flat—bounce it slightly: khalaqā, not khalak.

خَلَقْنَاكُمْ فَلَوْلَا تُصَدِّقُونَ

The mīm sākin in khalaqnākum is followed by a fā, which is not from the gunnah letters (mīm or bā). So this is iẓhār shafawī—read it clearly without nasalisation.

أَفَرَأَيْتُمْ مَا تُمْنُونَ

In tum, the mīm is followed by a mīm—so this is idghām mithlayn (or mutamāthilayn), meaning a full merge with gunnah (nasal sound). Stretch it for two counts.

In tumnoon, the mīm is followed by a nūn. Since nūn is not one of the special mīm rules (mīm or bā), you treat this as iẓhār shafawī again—read it cleanly.

أَأَنْتُمْ تَخْلُقُونَهُ أَمْ نَحْنُ الْخَالِقُونَ

Take care with the double hamzah in a’antum. Don’t rush it. Open your mouth clearly: a-a.

And again, when reading heavy letters like khā and ṣād, open your jaw. Don’t round your lips. It’s khā, not khō. The heaviness comes from the back of the tongue, not the lips.

أَفَرَأَيْتُمْ مَا تَحْرُثُونَ

We see the same rules here. The mīm sākin in tum is followed by a non-gunnah letter, so it’s iẓhār again.

Also, look out for any madd letters with a wave (~) on top—that means a long madd of four counts.

لَوْ نَشَاءُ لَجَعَلْنَاهُ حُطَامًا

In nashā’u, the madd sign indicates a long madd of four counts.

وَلَقَدْ عَلِمْتُمُ النَّشْأَةَ الْأُولَى

If you ever see a hamzah followed by an alif, wāw, or yā’, that’s called madd badal. For example:

* آمَنَا (āmanā): hamzah + alif

* إِيمَانًا (īmān): hamzah + yā’

* الْأُولَى (ūlā): hamzah + wāw

Even though these technically aren’t madd ṭabī‘ī, in the riwāyah of Ḥafṣ (which most of the world follows), we read them with two counts—just like madd ṭabī‘ī.

وَلَقَدْ عَلِمْتُمُ النَّشْأَةَ الْأُولَى

Pay attention to:

* The mīm mushaddadah in ʿalimtumunna. That shaddah means wājib al-ghunnah—a strong nasalisation for two counts.

That’s a quick overview of the Tajweed gems from this week’s ayat. Now that we’ve broken them down, I want you to go back and recite them again—slowly and deliberately.

Break long ayahs into smaller parts. Master each part, smoothen it out, then combine. Take your time. If you make a mistake, pause, go back, fix it—then move forward with confidence.

Let’s read it again together, slowly and carefully. Then you can practise on your own.

نَحْنُ خَلَقْنَاكُمْ فَلَوْلَا تُصَدِّقُونَ

أَفَرَأَيْتُمْ مَا تُمْنُونَ

أَأَنْتُمْ تَخْلُقُونَهُ أَمْ نَحْنُ الْخَالِقُونَ

نَحْنُ قَدَّرْنَا بَيْنَكُمُ الْمَوْتَ وَمَا نَحْنُ بِمَسْبُوقِينَ

عَلَىٰ أَنْ نُبَدِّلَ أَمْثَالَكُمْ وَنُنْشِئَكُمْ فِي مَا لَا تَعْلَمُونَ

وَلَقَدْ عَلِمْتُمُ النَّشْأَةَ الْأُولَىٰ فَلَوْلَا تَذَكَّرُونَ

أَفَرَأَيْتُمْ مَا تَحْرُثُونَ

أَأَنْتُمْ تَزْرَعُونَهُ أَمْ نَحْنُ الزَّارِعُونَ

لَوْ نَشَاءُ لَجَعَلْنَاهُ حُطَامًا فَظَلْتُمْ تَفَكَّهُونَ

إِنَّا لَمُغْرَمُونَ

بَلْ نَحْنُ مَحْرُومُونَ

Ṣadaqallāhul ‘Aẓīm.

For Qaswa students:

I know we had Eid break over the weekend and missed Madrasah on Saturday, but our Qur’an journey doesn’t pause. We don’t take breaks from learning the words of Allah.

So make sure to practise these ayat, smoothen your recitation, and get ready for Tafsir Thursday—and of course, Madrasah on Saturday.

Today is the 12th of Dhul Hijjah, and we’re continuing our reflections on the Jamarāt—the symbolic stoning of Shayṭān.

Picking the Pebbles

Let’s start with a practical question: Where do you get the pebbles?

They can come from anywhere. Many Hujjaj pick them from Muzdalifah simply because it’s convenient—there are plenty of pebbles there. Today, many Hajj packages even provide pre-packed bags of stones.

But what size should the pebbles be?

Should they be large enough to ‘hit Shayṭān hard’? No.

The Prophet ﷺ taught us to choose pebbles the size of a chickpea—not too big, not too small. He warned against ghuluw, extremism in religion.

“Nations before you were destroyed because of extremism.”

(Sunan an-Nasā’ī)

This small choice—of picking a modest-sized pebble—teaches us something profound:

Islam is the middle path.

Avoiding Extremes

We don’t go to extremes in rituals, nor do we abandon them completely.

There are traditions that are hyper-ritualistic—rules upon rules on how to wash, eat, pray. And there are others that are hyper-spiritual—saying rituals don’t matter, only love does.

But Islam?

Islam values both.

We pray—but not in a way that hardens the heart.

We fast—but it’s meant to soften us, make us more generous.

We do rituals—but they should lead to character.

This balance is seen in the Prophet’s ﷺ response during Hajj.

When companions told him they had done certain rites out of order, he said:

“No harm. Just complete what’s left.”

No stress. No harshness. Just sincerity.

The Pebble as a Mirror

The pebble isn’t just a stone—it’s a mirror.

What kind of Muslim are you becoming through these rituals?

Do your prayers make you more patient?

Does fasting make you more empathetic?

Does Qur’an soften your heart or just sharpen your tongue?

The Prophet ﷺ once said:

“A Muslim sleeps with a full stomach while his neighbour goes hungry? He is not truly a believer.”

That’s the balance we need—rituals with meaning, not just mechanical motions.

Unfortunately, today we often see the opposite.

People who pray, fast, and go to ‘Umrah regularly—but have no hesitation to slander, to accuse, or to divide the community over minor ritual details.

Even during Ramadan and Eid, we argue about moonsighting, declaring others deviant.

We forget: The hands in prayer matter less than the state of the heart.

The Prophet’s Example

When companions went to Sayyidah ‘Ā’ishah (رضي الله عنها) asking about the Prophet’s worship, they were amazed. Some said, “We must go even further.” One said, “I’ll pray all night.” Another said, “I’ll fast every day.” Another said, “I’ll never marry.”

When the Prophet ﷺ heard this, he was displeased. He said:

“I am the most God-conscious of you. Yet I pray, and I sleep. I fast, and I break my fast. I marry. Whoever turns away from my Sunnah is not of me.”

The lesson?

Balance.

Closing Reflections

Even our scholars during the Ottoman era noted:

The early generations weren’t obsessed with ritual details like the exact level of water for wudu’. They were more concerned about purifying the heart—removing envy, arrogance, love of the world.

So what does the chickpea-sized pebble teach us?

Don’t go to extremes.

Don’t neglect the heart.

Let the ritual transform you.

May Allah guide us to the middle path.

May He purify our hearts as we perform these beautiful rituals.

And may this Hajj make us better people—not just better worshippers.

Today is the 11th of Dhul Hijjah. The hujjaj are now spending most of the night — if not all of it — back in Mina, the city of tents. It’s sunnah to stay the whole night, but wajib to remain for at least half of it.

Now Mina isn’t a place of intense rituals. There’s no specific dhikr or du‘a you’re required to do. The main challenge here, honestly, is managing basic needs — especially toilets. You’ve got limited facilities and a massive number of people.

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But what should we be doing in Mina?

Allah tells us in the Qur’an:

فَإِذَا قَضَيْتُمْ مَنَاسِكَكُمْ فَاذْكُرُوا ٱللَّهَ كَذِكْرِكُمْ آبَاءَكُمْ أَوْ أَشَدَّ ذِكْرًا

“When you have completed your rites, remember Allah as you used to remember your forefathers — or with even greater remembrance.” [Surah al-Baqarah, 2:200]

The Arabs in Jahiliyyah used to sit around their tents in Mina talking about how great their ancestors were — telling tales of glory and lineage. Allah says: that’s not the point. Don’t just talk about the greatness of those who came before. Remember Allah instead.

We see this same thing today in our Ummah. “Oh, we had amazing scholars in the past… Muslim scientists… Al-Khawarizmi, Ibn Sina, so on…” That’s wonderful — but what are we doing now?

So while in Mina, do dhikr. Be in remembrance. Don’t just glorify the past — contribute to the present.

From the 11th, 12th, and optionally the 13th of Dhul Hijjah, the hujjaj will be doing the stoning at the Jamarat. On the 10th, they only stoned the largest one — Jamrat al-‘Aqabah. But on the 11th and 12th, they now go to all three: the small, middle, and large pillars.

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What’s the story behind this?

It goes back to Prophet Ibrahim عليه السلام.

On the 10th of Dhul Hijjah, when he was on his way to fulfil the dream and sacrifice his son Ismail, Shaytan tried to intervene. At three different points, Shaytan appeared to him, whispering doubts:

“You’ve done enough. You’ve sacrificed so much. You built the Kaaba. You passed all your tests. Why are you doing this? Why would Allah ask this of you?”

At each of those three points, Ibrahim picked up seven small stones, threw them in the direction of Shaytan and said:

Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar.

And he moved on.

Three times — three locations. That’s why we have three Jamarat.

This wasn’t just symbolic. There’s a deeper lesson here:

When Shaytan comes to you with doubt, with temptation — don’t just pray. Move.

Ibrahim didn’t stay in place. He changed location. He physically moved away from the source of temptation.

And we are taught the same thing in our tradition. If you find yourself in a place that leads you to sin, change your place. Remove yourself from toxic environments, from harmful friends, from dangerous routines.

The Prophet ﷺ said:

المرءُ على دِينِ خَليلِهِ، فليَنظُرْ أحدُكم مَن يُخالِلُ

“A person is upon the religion of his close companion, so be mindful who you befriend.” [Tirmidhi]

Even in spiritual matters — like nightmares — the Prophet ﷺ told us: if you wake up terrified, don’t just make du‘a. Turn to your left, blow lightly three times, and change your sleeping position. Don’t stay in the same spot.

Again — you’re taught to move.

So this action of stoning the Jamarat teaches us two powerful lessons:

* Shaytan won’t stop after the first try.

He’ll come back, again and again, with new angles and new whispers.

* If you persist in dhikr and take real action, he’ll eventually stop.

The whispering of that particular sin will fade — as long as you remain steadfast.

Be aware of your surroundings. Be conscious of your mental state. If you know you fall into sin when you’re alone, change that habit. Call a friend. Go to the masjid. Be around better people. You’re not expected to win against Shaytan on sheer willpower alone. He’s had millennia of practice.

Ibrahim taught us that — when Shaytan whispers, you say Allahu Akbar, and then… you move.

May Allah protect us from the whispers of Shaytan, and guide us to environments and companions that bring us closer to Him.

Ameen.

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This isn’t a comprehensive Hajj guide — just a simple, day-by-day overview of what the hujjaj do, with some reflections on its deeper meaning.

Today is the 10th of Dhul-Hijjah — Yawm an-Nahr — the Day of Sacrifice. This is the peak of the Hajj journey.

To understand this day, we look at the story of Prophet Ibrahim عليه السلام, starting from the 8th of Dhul-Hijjah, Yawm at-Tarwiyah — the day of pondering. That’s when he began to reflect deeply on a troubling dream: that he was slaughtering his son.

By the 9th, Yawm ‘Arafah, the meaning became clear to him. He shared the dream with his son, Prophet Ismail عليه السلام, asking what he thought.

And Ismail replied:

يَا أَبَتِ افْعَلْ مَا تُؤْمَرُ ۖ سَتَجِدُنِي إِنْ شَاءَ اللَّهُ مِنَ الصَّابِرِينَ

“O my dear father, do as you’re commanded. You’ll find me, inshaAllah, from among the patient.” [Surah as-Saffat, 37:102]

So now we arrive at the 10th — the day they went out to fulfil the dream. But Prophet Ismail asked: let’s do this further away from home, in Mina. He didn’t want his mother, Hajar, to hear any cries or pain.

So they walked together — about five kilometres — from Makkah to Mina.

And when the moment came… when Ibrahim was ready to place his son’s head on the rock, when both father and son surrendered completely to Allah — Allah called out:

قَدْ صَدَّقْتَ الرُّؤْيَا

“You have fulfilled the vision.” [Surah as-Saffat, 37:105]

Allah stopped the sacrifice. He didn’t require it. He never did.

Because Islam isn’t a religion that demands suffering to please God.

Prophet Ibrahim lived in a time when it was common across cultures and religions to sacrifice lives to appease the gods. Blood offerings were the norm. But this — this was something different.

Allah was teaching a lesson — not just to Ibrahim, but to all of humanity.

He doesn’t want your pain. He wants your heart.

Even though Ibrahim was willing to go through with it — and Ismail was ready to be sacrificed — Allah intervened. He replaced the son with a ram.

And Allah says in the Qur’an:

لَن يَنَالَ ٱللَّهَ لُحُومُهَا وَلَا دِمَاؤُهَا وَلَٰكِن يَنَالُهُ ٱلتَّقْوَىٰ مِنكُمْ

“It is neither their meat nor their blood that reaches Allah, but what reaches Him is your taqwa.” [Surah al-Hajj, 22:37]

That’s what Allah wants — your sincerity, your consciousness of Him. Not the meat. Not the blood. Not the spectacle.

So what does this teach us?

Islam isn’t about suffering. It’s not a religion that glorifies pain. It doesn’t ask you to harm yourself to prove your devotion. It’s not a masochistic faith.

Yes, life includes hardship. Yes, we’re tested — sometimes with ease, sometimes with pain. But it’s not the pain that earns us reward. It’s how we respond.

Are we grateful in times of ease? Are we patient in times of trial?

And more importantly — do we strive to improve our condition?

Islam doesn’t teach us to glorify suffering. It teaches us to alleviate it — in ourselves, and in others.

If you’re tested with wealth, you’re expected to use it to help those in need.

If you’re tested with poverty, you’re encouraged to work, strive, and lift yourself and your community.

And that’s why many acts of worship in Islam are built around economic responsibility.

Take zakat — you can only give it if you’ve saved and earned beyond a certain threshold.

Or Hajj — it’s only fard on those who are financially and physically able, and who can leave enough behind for their families.

Islam encourages productivity. It sees wealth as a tool for good — not something to be ashamed of.

As the Prophet ﷺ said to ‘Amr ibn al-‘Ās:

نِعْمَ الْمَالُ الصَّالِحُ لِلرَّجُلِ الصَّالِحِ

“How excellent is good wealth in the hands of a righteous man.” [Musnad Ahmad]

So today, as we remember the sacrifice of Prophet Ibrahim and Ismail, we reflect not just on obedience — but on the mercy of Allah.

Even when both father and son were ready for the ultimate sacrifice, Allah said: That’s enough. I wanted your heart, not your hurt.

Imagine that moment. For a father, it’s easier to suffer himself than to see his child in pain. For a child, especially one so young, nothing matters more than his own life — yet Ismail was willing to give it up for Allah.

That’s the essence of devotion.

But Allah said no. He honoured them, preserved their story, and replaced the act with one that the ummah continues today — the udḥiyah.

So when we celebrate Eid al-Adha, we’re not just barbecuing meat. We’re remembering a powerful lesson: that true devotion lies in taqwa, not torment.

That is Yawm an-Nahr — the Day of Sacrifice.

May Allah accept our qurban, our efforts, and our devotion.

Wassalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

Now is Maghrib of the 10th of Dhul-Hijjah.

In the day, the hujjaj spent the most important day of the year — the 9th of Dhul-Hijjah — at ‘Arafah. From Dhuhr to Maghrib, they stood in du‘a during wuqūf, the core act of Hajj. It’s the day when most du‘as are answered and the most people are forgiven in the whole year.

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From Dhuhr to ‘Asr, many hujjaj make du‘a in their tents, and then as the sun softens, they come out and continue under the open sky. As Maghrib arrives, the emotional energy intensifies — the tears, the hands raised, the hearts laid bare.

After sunset, they begin making their way to Muzdalifah. This journey — part of the wājib acts of Hajj — is done slowly and calmly. The Prophet ﷺ walked this path, holding the reins of his camel, al-Qaswa, making sure it moved gently.

When they reach Muzdalifah, there’s no specific ritual beyond remembrance — dhikr, istighfār. Allah says in the Qur’an:

ثُمَّ أَفِيضُوا مِنْ حَيْثُ أَفَاضَ النَّاسُ وَاسْتَغْفِرُوا اللَّهَ

“Then depart from where the people depart and ask Allah for forgiveness…” [Al-Baqarah 2:199]

So the hujjaj arrive, pray Maghrib and ‘Isha combined and shortened (Jam‘ wa Qaṣr), and then they rest. Not in tents or hotels — just on the bare earth, under the stars.

It’s what I call a five billion star experience.

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Sleeping under the sky in Muzdalifah is powerful. You look up and see constellations with no city lights to drown them out. It’s humbling. It strips you of your comforts, your titles, your privilege. Everyone sleeps on the same ground. No one steps aside for you. If someone needs to walk past, they walk over you. It’s raw. It’s real. It’s levelling.

And it reminds you of Yawm al-Qiyāmah. When we rise from our graves, there will be no resumes, no status, no CVs — just us and our deeds.

But there’s something deeper about these stars. Allah swears by them in Surah al-Wāqi‘ah:

فَلَا أُقْسِمُ بِمَوَاقِعِ النُّجُومِ، وَإِنَّهُ لَقَسَمٌ لَوْ تَعْلَمُونَ عَظِيمٌ، إِنَّهُ لَقُرْآنٌ كَرِيمٌ

“But nay, I swear by the setting of the stars — and indeed, it is a great oath if you only knew — that this is indeed a noble Qur’an.” [Al-Waqi‘ah 56:75–77]

Why does Allah link the stars to the Qur’an?

Think about it. If you don’t know anything about stars, they’re just beautiful lights in the sky — awe-inspiring, but directionless. But if you study them, they become a map. The Southern Cross, Orion’s Belt — suddenly, you know which way is north, south, east, west.

Similarly, the Qur’an. If you just listen, it’s beautiful — the rhythm, the words, the recitation. But if you dig deeper, if you study it, reflect on it, it becomes a guide.

At first glance, it might feel like a beautiful mess — one moment you’re reading about the muttaqīn, the next about the disbelievers, then suddenly it jumps to stories of Prophet Adam, Bani Isra’il, then to Ibrahim.

It’s not structured like a typical book. But when you peel back the layers, you start seeing the divine cohesion. The structure. The flow. And how each story, each verse, is placed exactly where it needs to be.

So the stars and the Qur’an — both are majestic, both guide. But only if we take the time to look deeper.

Muzdalifah is that reminder.

It tells us: slow down. Strip away the noise. Reconnect with the basics. Sleep under the stars. Reflect. Ask yourself: Who am I without all the labels? What matters when I’m lying on this ground beneath the sky?

That’s the essence of Hajj — a return to humility. To truth. To submission.

So that’s Muzdalifah — not glamorous, but glorious.

We’ll rest here until Fajr. After that, we’ll make our way to Mina for the next major part of Hajj — the Jamrah.

InshaAllah, we’ll talk about that tomorrow.

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Today is the 9th of Dhul-Hijjah — the Day of ‘Arafah.

Let’s quickly recap: yesterday, on the 8th, the hujjaj doing Tamattu‘ re-entered ihram. Those performing Ifrād or Qirānwere already in ihram. Depending on their package, many hujjaj moved to Mina, but some may have gone straight to ‘Arafah for logistical reasons. That’s okay — going to Mina on the 8th is sunnah, not a requirement.

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So what’s special about today?

The Day of ‘Arafah is the core of Hajj. The Prophet ﷺ said: “Al-Ḥajju ‘Arafah” — “Hajj is ‘Arafah.”

If you miss the wuqūf — the standing at ‘Arafah — your Hajj is invalid.

Wuqūf simply means to remain at the plains of ‘Arafah anytime between Dhuhr on the 9th and Fajr on the 10th. Whether you’re in a tent, under an umbrella, or just standing in the open — if you’re present in ‘Arafah during that window, you’ve fulfilled the rukun.

Most hujjaj will pray Dhuhr and ‘Asr combined and shortened — two rak‘āt each. After the prayer and a brief khuṭbah, the real focus begins: du‘ā. This is the day to pour your heart out to Allah.

The Prophet ﷺ made du‘ā from Dhuhr until Maghrib. In fact, this is the only day where du‘ā takes precedence over everything — even Ṣalāh. This is the day when Allah frees more people from Hellfire than any other day.

And it’s powerful. If you’re there, you’ll see millions standing shoulder to shoulder, crying, whispering, begging Allah for mercy, for forgiveness, for guidance, for whatever is in their hearts.

It truly feels like a rehearsal for Yawm al-Qiyāmah — the Day of Judgment.

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But here’s something that surprises people: even at Hajj, not everyone’s experience is the same. Some are in VIP tents with buffet spreads and private toilets. Others are in basic tents. Some have no tents — just an umbrella and the open sky.

You might think: “Wait, isn’t Hajj supposed to make everyone equal?”

But even on Yawm al-Qiyāmah, there’s no absolute equality. Some will be under Allah’s shade. Others will be in distress. What separates us there is not money — it’s our deeds.

So just because someone is in a five-star tent today doesn’t mean they’re in a five-star place on the Day of Judgment. And just because you’re under the sun now doesn’t mean you’re far from Allah’s shade then.

Let that sink in.

Now, the most recommended du‘ā today is what the Prophet ﷺ recited most on this day:

لَا إِلَٰهَ إِلَّا اللَّهُ وَحْدَهُ لَا شَرِيكَ لَهُ، لَهُ الْمُلْكُ وَلَهُ الْحَمْدُ، وَهُوَ عَلَىٰ كُلِّ شَيْءٍ قَدِيرٌ

Lā ilāha illa Allah, waḥdahu lā sharīka lah, lahu ’l-mulku wa lahu ’l-ḥamdu, wa huwa ‘alā kulli shay’in qadīr.

For those of us not at Hajj this year — don’t miss out.

The righteous from the tābi‘īn would still honour this day. They would fast, and from ‘Asr to Maghrib, they would intensify their du‘ā. Let us do the same. Wherever we are, use these hours to reconnect with Allah. It’s the best day of the year to ask.

Lastly — why is it called ‘Arafah?

It goes back to Prophet Ibrāhīm عليه السلام. On the 8th — the Day of Tarwiyah — he saw the dream of sacrificing his son. He spent the day reflecting: Is this really from Allah? What does it mean?

On the 9th — the Day of ‘Arafah — he understood. He knew. ‘Arafa means “to know.” He approached his son, told him the vision, and both father and son submitted to Allah’s will.

So this day is about realisation. It’s about recognising our purpose. Knowing who we are: servants of Allah.

Today is the day we remember what we were created for. To obey. To serve. To return to Him — purified, humbled, and changed.

May Allah accept the Hajj of all our hujjaj.

And for those of us not there — may Allah write Hajj for us soon, and accept our deeds this ‘Arafah.

Wassalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

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It’s Tafsir Thursday—and not just any Thursday. Today is the 9th of Dhul Hijjah, the Day of ‘Arafah, the greatest day of the year.

If you’re fasting today—may Allah accept it from you! The Prophet ﷺ said that fasting on this day wipes away two years of sins: one past, one future. Incredible reward for just one day.

And if you’re not fasting? Don’t worry—t…

In today’s episode, we explore 8 Dhul-Hijjah, also known as Yawm at-Tarwiyah — the Day of Preparation. While it might sound unfamiliar to some, it’s one of the key transitional days leading into the main Hajj rites.

🗓️ What is the Day of Tarwiyah?

“Tarwiyah” comes from the root word rawā, which means to prepare water or to reflect deeply.

Historically:

* Hujjaj would spend this day collecting and preparing water, food, and provisions before heading out for the challenging days of Hajj.

* It’s a day of practical readiness but also spiritual reflection, especially in honour of Prophet Ibrāhīm’s dream where he was shown to sacrifice his son — a pivotal moment in the Hajj story.

🕋 What Should You Do on This Day?

If you’re doing:

* Hajj Ifrād or Hajj Qirān

You’re already in Ihrām, so there’s no need to re-enter.

* Hajj Tamattuʿ

This is the day you re-enter the state of Ihrām, from wherever you are — no need to return to Miqāt. You can make niyyah right from your hotel room and start your Hajj journey.

⛺ Do You Go to Mina?

* It’s Sunnah to go to Mina on this day.

* However, due to logistics, not all Hajj groups go to Mina on the 8th. Some may head straight to ʿArafah on the 9th.

* If your group is going to Mina, it becomes your base camp for the days to come.

🎒 What Should You Pack?

Most essentials are provided in modern Hajj packages, but here’s a minimalist list for what you should bring in a small daypack (~10L):

* A refillable water bottle (hydration is key!)

* A power bank (charging stations are rare)

* Your Muṣḥaf for tilawah

* Books of duʿā’ or dhikr (keep yourself spiritually grounded)

* A sibḥah (for tasbīḥ counting)

* A thin spare Ihrām cloth — useful if the one you’re wearing gets wet or dusty

💭 Spiritual Reflection

The Day of Tarwiyah also carries a symbolic meaning:

* It’s believed to be the day Prophet Ibrāhīm received the dream to sacrifice his son.

* He pondered (rawā) over its meaning before deciding to act on it the next day.

* For us, it’s a day to ponder our own intentions — to spiritually prepare for the greatest day of the year: ʿArafah.

📌

Episode Summary

In this opening episode, Ustadh Azizi breaks down the three types of Hajj that Muslims may perform:

* Hajj Ifrād (إفراد) – “The solo Hajj”

* Intention: Only Hajj.

* Enter Makkah already in Ihrām.

* Perform Hajj without Umrah beforehand.

* No penalty (دم) required.

* Favoured by Shāfiʿī and Mālikī schools for its purity and effort.

* Hajj Tamattuʿ (تمتع) – “The enjoyable Hajj”

* Intention: Umrah first, then Hajj.

* Perform Umrah and exit Ihrām.

* Enjoy normal life until re-entering Ihrām for Hajj on 8th Dhul-Hijjah.

* Most common type among international pilgrims today.

* Encouraged by Hanbalī scholars and also recommended by the Prophet ﷺ.

* Hajj Qirān (قران) – “The combined Hajj”

* Intention: Umrah and Hajj together.

* Perform both acts while remaining continuously in Ihrām.

* Requires more endurance and a sacrificial offering (دم).

* Practised by the Prophet ﷺ during his Farewell Hajj.

* Favoured by the Ḥanafī school.

🧳

Which Hajj Should I Choose?

* Most pilgrims from Australia will perform Tamattuʿ.

* Airlines like Emirates or Qatar will announce the Miqāt (Ihrām entry point) ~40 minutes before Jeddah.

* Be ready to change into Ihrām garments at the airport and make niyyah before crossing Miqāt in the air.

💡

Scholarly Opinions

* Ḥanafīs: Qirān is superior because the Prophet ﷺ performed it.

* Ḥanbalīs: Tamattuʿ is best—more accessible and encouraged by the Prophet ﷺ.

* Shāfiʿīs & Mālikīs: Ifrād is preferred—pure Hajj with no infringements or penalties.

🎙️ BeQuranic | Tajweed Tuesday – The People of the Left (Ashab al-Shimal)

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh, and welcome back to BeQuranic.

It’s week 4, and today is Tuesday – which means it’s time for Tajweed Tuesday! We’re continuing with our journey through Surah al-Waqi‘ah this term, and today we’re reading Ayat 41 to 56, which focus on the third category of people mentioned in this Surah: Ashab al-Shimal — the people of the left.

Just a quick reminder before we dive into the ayat:

We’re now in the first ten days of Dhul-Hijjah — the best ten days of the year. So let’s increase our acts of worship, reduce our distractions, and make the most of this window of opportunity.

That means:

* More Qur’an reading

* More dhikr

* More salah

* And if you’re able, more fasting

Especially on the 9th of Dhul-Hijjah — Yawm ‘Arafah.

Fasting on this day wipes away the sins of the previous year and the coming year — two years of forgiveness for just one day of fasting.

And if you’re not fasting — for example, if you’re unable due to health or it’s that time of the month — you can still earn reward by feeding others who are fasting. Even something simple like a date or a glass of water counts, and Rasulullah ﷺ promised that the reward of feeding a fasting person is equal to the fast itself, without diminishing the reward of the one who fasted.

Alright — now let’s recite Ayat 41 to 56 together.

And remember, when you’re reading:

* Smooth out each verse.

* Focus on one ayah at a time.

* Don’t rush — the goal is quality, not speed.

* Once you’re comfortable, link the ayahs together and keep the fluency going.

Pro tip: Every time you revise, start from the beginning — ayah by ayah — so it all flows naturally by the end of the week.

Alright — that’s all for today’s Tajweed Tuesday. I’ll see you again on Thursday for Tafsir Thursday, where we explore the lessons behind these ayat — what they tell us, how they challenge us, and how we can live them.

Until then, keep practising — and may Allah bless your Qur’an journey.

Wassalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

In this special session, I walk a group of youth through the meaning, rituals, and spiritual significance of Hajj—starting with a mock Hajj and ending with a powerful reminder about the sincerity of our journey to Allah.

💫 In this episode:

* Why Hajj matters: its origins in the call of Prophet Ibrahim (as), the sacred months, and the spiritual and historic…

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh, and welcome back to BeQuranic.

Today is Thursday, the 2nd of Dhul-Hijjah, 1446. That means we’ve officially entered the best 10 days of the year — the first 10 days of Dhul-Hijjah.

Just as the last 10 nights of Ramadan are the most sacred nights — containing Laylatul Qadr — the first 10 days of Dhul-Hijjah are t…

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh,

Welcome back to BeQuranic. Today is Tuesday, and that means it’s Tajweed Tuesday.

Apologies—we didn’t get a chance to upload Ayat of the Week earlier, so in today’s session, we’ll combine both. We’ll recite this week’s portion of Surah Al-Wāqiʿah, and then break down the Tajweed rules within it.

Recitation Tip

When you’re practicing:

✅ Focus on smooth articulation

✅ Pause after each ayah and correct your mistakes

✅ Don’t rush – Tajweed is about beautifying the Qur’an, not racing through it

Wrap-Up

That’s all for this week’s Tajweed Tuesday! Keep practicing these ayat from Surah Al-Wāqiʿah (27–40) and try to observe the Tajweed rules we’ve just gone through.

🎧 Don’t forget to join us again on Thursday for Tafsir Thursday, where we explore the practical lessons from this portion of the surah—how to be more Qur’anic in our actions, speech, and goals.

Until then — keep reciting, keep reflecting.

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

Welcome back to BeQuranic.

Today is Thursday, which means it’s time for Tafsir Thursday — where we reflect on how to live the Qur’an in practical, everyday ways. At BeQuranic, we’re not diving into academic depth or technical tafsir debates. Instead, we focus on action:

BeQuranic is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work,…

Welcome back to Be Qur’anic!

It’s Tuesday, and that means it’s time for Tajweed Tuesday, where we break down the recitation and pronunciation rules from the Ayat of the Week.

This is Week 2 of Term 2, and we’re continuing with Surah al-Wāqiʿah, focusing on verses 10 to 26. Don’t worry — although that’s 16 ayat, the verses are short and rhythmically structured, which makes them ideal for learning Tajweed.

Let’s begin with Isti‘ādhah:

أعوذ بالله من الشيطان الرجيم

This is not part of the Qur’an but an instruction from Allah — “When you recite the Qur’an, seek refuge in Allah from Shayṭān.” So make sure we recite it with presence and proper tajweed, not rushed.

Key Tajweed Highlights

1. Al-Madd (Elongation)

We notice several types of madd in these verses:

* Madd Aṣlī (natural elongation): e.g., Was-sābiqūna — stretch it for two counts.

* Madd Muttasil : Look for wavy signs — these must be stretched to 4 counts.

2. Gunnah (Nasalisation)

Whenever you see nun mushaddadah or meem mushaddadah, like in:

* Muqarrabūn or Waḥūrun ‘īn

There’s wājib al-ghunnah — nasal sound for two counts.

Pinch your nose slightly — you should feel it vibrate.

3. Idghām (Merging)

For tanwīn or nūn sākinah followed by letters of Yarmalūn, you’ll often get:

* Idghām bighunnah (merging with nasalisation), e.g. ‘alā sururin mawḍūnah

* If it’s followed by a non-Yarmalūn letter like sīn, we get ikhfā’ (partial hiding), as in qīlan salāman.

4. Ikhfā’ (Partial nasal concealment)

Found when nūn sākinah or tanwīn is followed by certain letters (like zāy, sīn, ṭā).

Example:

* Yanzifūn — here, nūn is hidden and flows into the sound of zāy with ghunnah.

5. Qalqalah (Bounce or echo)

Letters like qāf, ṭā, bā, jīm, dāl when sākina produce a light bounce.

E.g., lā yuqaddarūn — give the qāf a light bounce.

Important Letter-Specific Reminders

* Raw (ر) should be heavy (tafkhīm) when it has a fatḥah or ḍammah, and light (tarqīq) when it has a kasrah.

* Ṣād (ص) is a heavy letter. Don’t round your lips. The heaviness comes from lifting the back of your tongue, not your lips.

* Ḍād (ض) — sides of the tongue should press against upper molars. Avoid turning it into a “dal”.

* ‘Ayn (ع) — constrict the middle of your throat, not the top or bottom.

* Hamzah (ء) — is a glottal stop, don’t stretch or squeeze it.

Common Symbols

* A small circle above a letter means don’t pronounce it — it’s a silent or dropped letter.

* A wavy line (tilde shape) means long madd — usually 4 to 6 counts.

* A small alif means elongation for 2 counts — usually madd aṣlī.

Practice Advice

Don’t rush through all 16 ayat at once. If you’re just starting, take it one ayah at a time:

* Smooth out each word.

* Pay attention to the makhraj (point of articulation).

* Use a mirror or record yourself to check your pronunciation.

* Once you’re confident, try reciting the entire section with correct tajweed.

For example, start with:

Was-sābiqūna as-sābiqūn. Ulā’ikal muqarrabūn…

— repeat until you’re flowing smoothly with the right pace and rules.

That’s it for Tajweed Tuesday!

Keep practising the ayat, and take note of these Tajweed points as you recite.

See you on Thursday, inshaAllah, for Tafsir Thursday, where we’ll explore the meanings behind these powerful verses from Surah al-Wāqiʿah.

Wassalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

Welcome back to Be Qur’anic.

Today we’re continuing with our Ayat of the Week for Term 2 of 2025, where we’re diving into the powerful and reflective verses of Surah al-Wāqiʿah.

This week, we’ll be reciting from ayah 10 to ayah 26. That might sound like a lot—16 ayat—but don’t worry. Surah al-Wāqiʿah is known for its short, rhythmic verses, which makes it easy to recite and reflect upon.

Let’s begin, as always, with istiʿādhah — seeking protection from Shayṭān — and then proceed to the recitation.

🎙️ (Recite ayat 10–26 here in clear, paced tajwīd)

That concludes our recitation for this week.

We’ll continue the journey on:

* Tuesday with Tajweed Tuesday, where we’ll break down the key tajwīd rules from these verses,

* And then on Thursday, we’ll explore their meanings and practical lessons in Tafsir Thursday.

Until then, keep reviewing the verses and reflect on their meanings as you recite. Try to connect with the themes of Jannah, reward, and the descriptions of the righteous mentioned here.

See you Tuesday, inshaAllah.

Wassalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

Welcome to Be Quranic. It’s Thursday, which means it’s time for Tafsir Thursday — where we dive into the meanings and lessons behind our Ayat of the Week.

We’re now in Term 2 of 2025, and this term, we’ll be studying Surah al-Wāqi‘ah — the chapter that follows Surah al-Rahmān, which we explored last term. As usu…

Welcome back to Be Qur’anic. Today is Tuesday, and that means it’s Tajweed Tuesday.

Every Tuesday during the term, we’ll break down the tajwīd rules found in the Ayat of the Week. For Term 2, we’re exploring Surah al-Wāqi‘ah. This week, we’re focusing on verses 1 to 9.

Let’s begin.

1.

Isti‘ādhah and Basmalah

A‘ūdhu billāhi min ash-shayṭānir-rajīm

Don’t rush through isti‘ādhah. This is a direct command from Allah: “When you recite the Qur’an, seek refuge in Allah.”

Say it with presence, intention, and correct articulation.

Bismillāhir-Raḥmānir-Raḥīm

Many rush through the basmalah, but according to some scholars — like Imam al-Shāfi‘i — it is part of the Qur’an. Recite it properly, honouring each rule.

2.

Verse 1 – إِذَا وَقَعَتِ الْوَاقِعَةُ

* Iẓā – contains a mad aṣlī (natural elongation), read it with 2 harakāt.

* Waqa‘ati-l-Wāqi‘ah – notice the bouncing of the letter qāf and the correct emphasis on ‘Ayn. Maintain equal length in iẓā and wāqi‘ah.

3.

Verse 2 – لَيْسَ لِوَقَعَتِهَا كَاذِبَةٌ

* Laysa li-waqa‘atihā – contains a mad aṣlī.

* Qaf is a bouncing letter, qalqalah.

* Kādhibah – the letter dhāl should have the tip of your tongue touch the edges of your front teeth, not the flat part. Don’t confuse it with zāl (ز).

4.

Verse 3 – خَافِضَةٌ رَافِعَةٌ

* The tanwīn at the end of khāfiḍah meets the letter rā – and rā is part of Yarmalūn. This is idghām bilā ghunnah – a full merge without nasal sound.

* Read it: khāfiḍatur rāfi‘ah, not khāfiḍatun rāfi‘ah.

5.

Verse 4 – إِذَا رُجَّتِ الْأَرْضُ رَجًّا

* Iẓā – again, mad aṣlī.

* Rujjatil-arḍu – the ḍād with ḍammah causes the lips to round forward, not because of the letter itself, but due to the vowel.

* Rajja – ends with tanwīn followed by shaddah. This is a mad ‘iwāḍ — elongate it two harakāt when stopping.

6.

Verse 5 – وَبُسَّتِ الْجِبَالُ بَسًّا

* Bussat – pay attention to the shaddah on the sīn. Pronounce both sīn with clarity.

* Jibāl – elongate the alif for 2 harakāt.

* Bassā – another mad ‘iwāḍ, elongate 2 harakāt when stopping.

7.

Verse 6 – فَكَانَتْ هَبَاءً مُنْبَثًّا

* Kānat – the tā is an aspirated letter, release a slight puff of air without turning it into a sīn.

* Habā’an – look out for the mad followed by tanwīn.

* Habā’am munbaththā – this is idghām bi-ghunnah: the tanwīn is merged with mīm, resulting in a nasal sound (ghunnah) and read with 2 harakāt.

* Munbaththā – the thā should be light and pronounced with the tip of the tongue just between the teeth.

8.

Verse 7 – وَكُنتُمْ أَزْوَاجًا ثَلَاثَةً

* Kuntum – here, the nūn sākinah meets tā. Tā is not part of Yarmalūn, so this is ikhfā’, a partial merge with nasalisation. Shape your mouth for tā but pronounce the ghunnah clearly.

* Azwājan thalāthah – another ikhfā’. The tanwīn at the end of azwājan meets thā, a non-Yarmalūn letter.

9.

Verse 8–9 – فَأَصْحَابُ الْمَيْمَنَةِ مَا أَصْحَابُ الْمَيْمَنَةِ

* Fa-aṣḥābu-l-maymanah – the ṣād is not a lip letter. Don’t purse your lips when reading it. The thickness comes from the back of the tongue rising.

* Elongate the ā in aṣḥābu as it is part of the mad aṣlī.

* Be careful not to elongate unnecessarily when stopping. If there’s no mad letter, just stop naturally.

Final Tip

Not all stops require elongation. Only stop with mad if there’s a mad letter (like alif, wāw, or yā’ with sukun and matching vowel before it). Otherwise, keep your stop natural and clean.

That wraps up this week’s Tajweed Tuesday on verses 1–9 of Surah al-Wāqi‘ah. Keep practising your recitation with attention to these tajwīd rules.

InshaAllah, I’ll see you on Thursday for Tafsir Thursday as we unpack the meanings and reflections from these verses.

Wassalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

Welcome back to BeQuranic!

We are now in Term 2 of 2025, and this term we’ll be diving into a powerful and reflective surah — Surah al-Waqi‘ah.

Each week, you’ll receive three episodes to support your journey:

* On Mondays, we’ll begin with a recitation of the Ayat of the Week

* On Tuesdays, it’s Tajweed Tuesday, where we explore the tajweed rules found in the weekly verses

* On Thursdays, we’ll end the week with Tafsir Thursday, discussing the meanings and life lessons from what we’ve read

This term will take us on a 9-week journey through Surah al-Waqi‘ah, moving verse by verse to reflect and connect deeply with the Qur’an’s message.

Let’s begin Week 1 with the first nine verses of Surah al-Waqi‘ah.

A‘ūdhu billāhi minash-shayṭānir-rajīm

Bismillāhir-raḥmānir-raḥīm

[Recite ayat 1–9 here clearly and with tajweed]

That concludes our first reading of Surah al-Waqi‘ah, verses 1 to 9 — the perfect way to kick off Term 2.

InshaAllah, join us again for Tajweed Tuesday, where we’ll break down the pronunciation and tajweed rules for these verses.

Until then,

Wassalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

* Elections and politics are a part of religion, not its totality. Avoid extreme labels like calling someone “kafir” or “Zionist” based on their voting preferences.

* Voting is a personal ijtihad; choose candidates based on community benefit, not solely candidate’s religion. After elections, we remain a united community.

Reflections on Islamic History & Political Islam:

* Islam as a religion spread peacefully, while the political expansion involved battles for geopolitical necessity, not forced conversion.

* Historical examples: Syria took 500 years to become majority-Muslim, Egypt 300 years. Religious freedom was respected (e.g., Coptic Christians under Muslim rule).

Surah Al-An’am (92 onwards): Key Insights

* Verse 92: Qur’an affirms past scriptures and original monotheism (e.g., Ka’bah built by Ibrahim). Warns Makkah and expands universally.

* Verses 93-94: Greatest wrongdoings include inventing lies against Allah (claiming false revelation) and arrogance. At death, all worldly status and protections vanish; only righteousness remains.

* Verses 95-97 (Nature’s Signs):

* Allah brings life from death (and vice versa); creation showcases His continuous power.

* Linguistic precision: verbs (fi’il) express temporary or active events; nouns (isim) denote permanence/stability—used perfectly to describe natural phenomena.

* Encourages contemplation of nature (night/day cycle, celestial navigation).

Spiritual Reflection (Importance of Salah):

* Prayer is foundational, preventing immorality. Regular prayers create ongoing accountability with Allah.

* True prayer transforms behaviour; superficial prayers do not reflect genuine belief.

Final Reminders (Shawwal & Sunnah Fasting):

* Recommended to combine intentions for fasting in Shawwal (e.g., Monday/Thursday, white days).

* Ladies permitted to combine missed Ramadan fasts with sunnah Shawwal fasts, respecting scholarly differences.

Key Actionable Points:

* Vote responsibly, avoiding divisiveness.

* Reflect regularly on the spiritual impact of your daily prayers.

* Engage actively with nature for spiritual insight.

* Take advantage of sunnah fasting opportunities in Shawwal.

Alhamdulillah, it’s great to be back together after Eid. Eid Mubarak to everyone—I hope your Eid is joyful and filled with blessings. May Allah accept all our deeds from Ramadan and grant us the opportunity to experience an even more meaningful Ramadan next year.

Tonight, we continue our tafseer of Surah Al-An’am, picking up from Ayah 90, where we paused before Eid. Our aim now is to complete the remaining eleven pages, covering roughly a page each week. Once we finish this surah, I plan to go back and complete the last four surahs from Juz ’Amma, after which we’ll pick a new topic or maybe start studying a classical text together, inshaAllah.

As usual, we start our session with a beautiful recitation of Ratib Al-Haddad, reconnecting spiritually and setting a tranquil mood for our discussion.

Today, we look at the prophets mentioned in Surah Al-An’am—Ibrahim, Dawud, Sulaiman, Ayyub, Yusuf, Musa, and Harun—and see how Allah uses their stories to comfort Prophet Muhammad ﷺ during his own times of difficulty. Each prophet faces unique challenges: Dawud and Sulaiman experience tests of gratitude (shukr), while prophets like Ayyub, Yusuf, and Musa endure tests of patience (sabr).

The story of Prophet Yusuf (AS) especially resonates deeply because it closely parallels the struggles faced by Prophet Muhammad ﷺ. Both prophets experience rejection from their closest family members yet achieve eventual success through patience and reliance upon Allah.

We also discuss the special role of Sayyidina Ali, highlighting how Ali supports Prophet Muhammad ﷺ from the earliest days. It’s important to have balanced love: loving Ali deeply doesn’t require us to dislike Abu Bakr or Umar. In fact, Ali himself names his children after these companions, reflecting their strong bond of brotherhood and mutual respect.

Allah instructs us explicitly in this surah to follow the guidance and examples of these prophets and companions. Their lives serve as practical guides that help us navigate our own challenges.

Tonight, we also discuss the unique authenticity and preservation of the Qur’an. Unlike previous scriptures, which undergo alterations and corruption, the Qur’an remains meticulously preserved through memorisation and oral transmission. I often share this remarkable aspect of the Qur’an during interfaith dialogues at the university, surprising many who learn how deeply Muslims engage with their scripture—even memorising it without necessarily understanding its language fully.

Finally, we emphasise a crucial point: true belief in the Hereafter (Akhirah) directly leads us to safeguarding our prayers. Prayer is a key indicator of our faith and our belief in the life to come. Now, as Ramadan has ended, let’s strive to maintain our dedication to prayers, proving our sincere belief in the Akhirah.

May Allah enable us to internalise these reflections, strengthen our connection to the Qur’an, and bless our ongoing journey. See you all next week, inshaAllah!

Alhamdulillah, today was Eid, and it was truly beautiful to see everyone gathered to celebrate after a month of Ramadan. I began with the traditional Takbīr, praising Allah, and sending peace upon our beloved Prophet Muhammad ﷺ.

One important thing I really wanted everyone to remember today is that Islam is a religion of balance. Ramadan was a month of hard work, sacrifice, late-night prayers, and giving up things we enjoy—all for Allah’s sake. But today, Eid, is a day Allah Himself has given us to celebrate and enjoy, as a reward for all our effort.

I also reminded everyone about the blessings we got from Ramadan. Those hadiths really stood out to me:

• “Whoever fasts Ramadan with sincere faith, hoping for reward from Allah, all their past sins will be forgiven.”

• “Whoever prays at night in Ramadan with sincere faith, hoping for reward, their past sins will also be forgiven.”

Reflecting on these hadiths made me realise again just how much mercy Allah shows us, giving us chances to start fresh every year.

I also urged everyone, including myself, not to leave behind what we learned and practised in Ramadan. We all picked up new habits—whether it’s extra prayers, reading more Qur’an, or giving charity. If we just choose even one of these good deeds and hold onto it throughout the year, imagine how much better our lives would be when the next Ramadan arrives.

Something that deeply touched my heart today was reminding everyone about the real success that comes in the next life. I quoted the verses from Surah al-Hāqqah about those who will joyfully receive their book of deeds in their right hands on the Day of Judgement. May Allah make us all among them.

I also made sure we took a moment to thank everyone who helped during Ramadan. Volunteers, those who cooked and provided food, and people who organised activities—they were truly amazing. We asked Allah to reward everyone abundantly, repeating the dua: “Allahumma at’im man at’amana” (“O Allah, feed those who fed us”).

Finally, it was important to me today that we don’t forget our brothers and sisters around the world, especially in Palestine, who are struggling. We asked Allah sincerely to grant them victory, relieve their suffering, provide them with sustenance, healing, patience, and strength.

Eid is definitely a day of joy and celebration, but also reflection and gratitude. Let’s remember this beautiful balance and carry the spirit of Ramadan forward throughout the year, InshaAllah.

May Allah accept from all of us and bless our community always. Eid Mubarak!

• Approaching the end of Ramadan, reflect on the month:

• Choose one good habit to carry forward into the next 11 months.

• Examples: Regular jama’ah prayers, sunnah prayers, daily Qur’an recitation.

• Community announcement:

• Potluck iftar tomorrow.

• Eid prayer details shared.

Surah Al-An’am (Ayahs 85-90): Prophet Ibrahim’s Example

• Emphasis on Ibrahim’s logical arguments and reliance on revelation.

• Allah took ownership of Ibrahim’s logical reasoning, emphasizing the importance of logic and reason in Islam.

Prophet Ibrahim’s Family Legacy (Ayahs 85-88)

• Allah gifted Ibrahim righteous progeny (Ismail, Ishaq, Ya’qub, Dawud, Sulaiman, Ayyub, Yusuf, Musa, Harun).

• Allah states:

“This is how we reward the Muhsinun (excellent people).” (6:84)

• Parenting lessons from Ibrahim’s example:

• Deep concern for children’s faith (Iman).

• Priority is not worldly success but preserving Islam across generations.

Practical Parenting Tips from Ibrahim’s life:

1. Frequent Dua for Children:

• Ibrahim continually made dua for guidance and protection against shirk, even though his son was already a prophet (Ismail).

2. Family Involvement in Ibadah:

• Built the Ka’bah alongside Ismail; engage children in worship, prayers, Quran.

3. Quality Family Time:

• Regularly spent meaningful time with Ismail, strengthening their bond.

• Importance of reducing screen distractions to nurture genuine relationships.

4. Individual Differences Among Children:

• Mentioned diverse prophets: Dawud & Sulaiman (rich, powerful), Ayyub (tested by hardship), Yusuf (from hardship to power), Musa (leader), Harun (supporter).

• Each child may excel differently; the common priority is Iman and character.

Community Responsibility and Da’wah (Ayah 89)

• Diversity in Da’wah Approaches:

• Da’wah methods should adapt culturally and contextually (e.g., historical Indonesian wayang, contemporary methods).

• Emphasized local language and culture to effectively convey Islam’s message.

• Servitude to Islam (Ayah 90):

• Serving Islam is a privilege; Islam benefits us, not vice versa.

• Allah doesn’t depend on specific individuals; replacements will come if one steps away.

• Reminder: Always be humble and grateful for the opportunity to serve.

Significance of Dua: Ibrahim’s Long-term Vision

• Dua of Ibrahim answered thousands of years later through Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ).

• Dua is an act of worship; outcome and timing are Allah’s domain.

• Importance of ongoing dua for future generations’ guidance.

Conclusion & Practical Takeaways:

• Carry forward Ramadan habits into daily life.

• Emulate Ibrahim’s parenting:

• Frequent dua for children’s Iman.

• Family-centered worship and activities.

• Understand and nurture individual strengths.

• Serve the community humbly, recognizing it as a divine gift, not a burden.

• Maintain a deep commitment to dua for lasting family guidance.

Eid Announcement:

• Eid prayer: Neil MacDougall Park, open-air (following Sunnah), welcoming everyone.

• Takbir: 8:00 am | Eid Prayer: 8:30 am.

May Allah accept all our Ramadan efforts and grant steadfastness for us and our progeny.

Introduction: Differing Ramadan Dates

• Acknowledgment of differences within Muslim communities regarding Ramadan dates (27th vs. 28th).

• Encourages practical approach: worship on both nights to ensure Laylat al-Qadr is covered.

Introduction: Laylat al-Qadr (27th Night)

• Traditionally regarded as most likely night for Laylat al-Qadr.

• Personal anecdote from student days in Egypt, highlighting importance and special nature of the 27th night.

Introduction: Eid Announcement & Reminder

• Eid: Announced for Monday at Neil MacDougall Park, Como.

• Importance of Eid Prayer outdoors—emulating prophetic practice:

• All encouraged to attend (men, women, children).

• Prophet ﷺ conducted Eid prayer in an open field, not a masjid, allowing everyone (including menstruating women) to join the gathering.

Upcom…

Introduction: Last 10 Nights & Extra Effort

• 25th night, odd night—potential Laylatul Qadr.

• Encouraged extra spiritual effort:

• Qur’an recitation, prayer, charity, du‘a.

Welcome to BeQuranic.

Today is Tuesday, the 25th of Ramadan.

As always on Tuesdays, we’ve got Tajweed Tuesday, where we break down the Tajweed rules in the Ayat of the Week.

This week, we are covering ayahs 56 to 61 of Surah Al-Rahman.

Usually, we begin with the theory, and then apply it to the ayat.

But this week, I want to do things a little differently.

Since we’ve now completed the rules of Nun Sakin and Tanwin — which is one of the largest areas of Tajweed (aside from mudūd, or elongation) — I thought we could go straight into the application.

We’ll read the ayat, and then revisit and deep dive into the rules of Ikhfā’, particularly focusing on examples we didn’t fully cover last week.

There are subtle but important differences between types of Ikhfā’ — and these details help us beautify our recitation even more.

So, get your mushaf out.

Let’s open up and read together — Surah Al-Rahman, ayat 56 to 61:

📖 (Recitation)

فِيهِنَّ قَاصِرَاتُ الطَّرْفِ لَمْ يَطْمِثْهُنَّ إِنسٌ قَبْلَهُمْ وَلَا جَانٌّ

فَبِأَيِّ آلَاءِ رَبِّكُمَا تُكَذِّبَانِ

كَأَنَّهُنَّ الْيَاقُوتُ وَالْمَرْجَانُ

فَبِأَيِّ آلَاءِ رَبِّكُمَا تُكَذِّبَانِ

هَلْ جَزَاءُ الْإِحْسَانِ إِلَّا الْإِحْسَانُ

فَبِأَيِّ آلَاءِ رَبِّكُمَا تُكَذِّبَانِ

🔎 Tajweed Breakdown

🔸 فِيهِنَّ

• “فِي” is madd aṣlī – elongate 2 harakat.

• “هِنَّ” has nun mushaddadah, so it’s wājib al-ghunnah — a clear nasal sound, held for 2 harakat.

To check your ghunnah, pinch your nose while saying it — if it blocks the sound, you’re doing it right!

🔸 قَاصِرَاتُ

• Heavy letter ص: Remember, heaviness doesn’t come from puckering the lips.

It comes from lifting the back of your tongue.

Don’t say soo-raa, say ṣaa, with that elevation at the back of the tongue.

🔸 يَطْمِثْهُنَّ

• Again, we have nun mushaddadah, so wājib al-ghunnah.

• The letter ط is heavy — hold the ghunnah properly, and avoid pushing it from your lips.

🟡 Examples of Ikhfā’

Now, let’s look at some specific examples of Ikhfā’:

🔹 إِنسٌ قَبْلَهُمْ

• The nun sākinah in “insun” has no visible sukun — and the letter qāf is after it.

• Qāf is not one of the Idghām letters, so this is Ikhfā’.

• Qāf is a deep letter, pronounced from the back of the tongue, so your tongue needs to be lifted for this one.

Hold the ghunnah for 2 harakat, and prepare your mouth for the qāf sound.

“Insun qaablahum”

🔹 Compare that with a lighter Ikhfā’, like:

“Insun sāriqun” – the sīn is a light letter, so your tongue remains flat.

You see? Same rule, but different articulation depending on the following letter.

That’s why we say: there are two types of Ikhfā’ — heavy and light — based on the strength and makhraj of the next letter.

🔸 وَلَا جَانٌّ

• Madd: You see the madd sign (tilde-like wave) + shaddah, which means this is madd lāzim — held for 6 harakat.

• The nun here is mushaddadah again — so ghunnah applies too.

🔸 وَالْمَرْجَانُ

• This word has no shaddah on the nun, so no ghunnah.

• You can read the madd here with 2, 4, or 6 harakat — your choice.

But if you’re stopping on it, keep it consistent.

🔸 إِلَّا الْإِحْسَانُ

• الْإِحْسَانُ ends with a sukun — madd ‘āriḍ līssukūn — so if you’re stopping, read it with 4 harakat.

📌 Quick Recap of Key Tajweed Covered Today:

• ✅ Madd Aṣlī – elongation of 2 harakat

• ✅ Wājib al-Ghunnah – nasal sound with nun/mīm mushaddadah

• ✅ Ikhfā’ – hiding of nun sākinah or tanwīn (we saw both light and heavy)

• ✅ Madd Lāzim – 6 harakat with shaddah after madd

• ✅ Madd ‘Āriḍ līssukūn – when you stop on a word with a temporary sukun

📝 Final Notes:

These ayat are full of beauty and precision in their sound — and Tajweed helps us bring that beauty out.

Be extra careful when applying the Ikhfā’ rules — especially in distinguishing between heavy and light letters. It’s these small differences that make our recitation more melodious and more accurate.

Keep practising. Keep repeating. Listen to reciters and try to imitate their articulation.

I’ll see you this Thursday for Tafsir Thursday, inshaAllah.

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

Introduction: Covering All Bases in Ramadan

• Although tonight (24th night) is even for some, it’s odd for others.

• Due to differences in moon sighting, don’t risk missing Laylatul Qadr—perform extra worship on every night of the last 10 nights.

Welcome to BeQuranic.

Today is Monday, the 24th of Ramadan.

That means tonight will be the eve of the 25th of Ramadan.

And Rasulullah ﷺ said in a very well-known hadith:

“Search for Laylatul Qadr in the last ten nights, on the odd nights.”

So tonight is one of the last ten odd nights – it could be Laylatul Qadr.

InshaAllah, let’s make the most of this night.

🔹 Increase your worship

🔹 Pray extra raka‘at

🔹 Read more Qur’an

🔹 And especially – make lots of du‘a

The du‘a that Rasulullah ﷺ taught Sayyidatina Aisha (RA) for this night is:

اللَّهُمَّ إِنَّكَ عَفُوٌّ تُحِبُّ العَفْوَ فَاعْفُ عَنِّي

Allahumma innaka ‘afuwwun tuhibbul ‘afwa fa‘fu ‘anni

O Allah, You are the Pardoner, You love to pardon, so pardon me.

And please don’t forget to make heartfelt du‘a for our brothers and sisters in Palestine.

The genocide has only intensified – more bombings, more killings.

This is the best time to turn to Allah with sincerity and beg Him for justice, liberation, and peace for Palestine.

As usual, we begin our week with the Ayat of the Week.

We are continuing our journey through Surah Al-Rahman.

This week, inshaAllah, we will be reading from ayah 56 to 61.

🎙️ (Recite the ayat here: Surah Al-Rahman 55:56–61)

Those are the Ayat of the Week.

📖 Read them, practice them, reflect on them.

We’ll see you tomorrow, Tuesday, for Tajweed Tuesday,

where we will dissect the Tajweed rules within these ayat, inshaAllah.

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

Introduction: Laylatul Qadr and Its Importance

• Tonight (23rd night of Ramadan) is an odd night, possibly Laylatul Qadr.

• Prophet ﷺ:

• “Whoever is deprived of the good of Laylatul Qadr has been deprived of all good.”

• Analogy:

• If offered 1000 months’ salary for working just one day without knowing the exact day, no one would miss it. Similarly, Laylatul…

Introduction: Importance of Worship in Uncertainty

• Tonight is the 22nd night of Ramadan, an even night.

• In Perth, due to differing start dates of Ramadan, some Muslims consider tonight the 21st.

• Reflection:

• While confident in your own calculation, always worship as though you might be wrong, ensuring no opportunity for Laylatul Qadr is missed.

Introduction: Significance of Tonight

• Tonight is the 21st night of Ramadan, an odd night and also the eve of Friday, increasing the likelihood of Laylatul Qadr.

• Imam Ibn Rajab al-Hanbali notes that when an odd night aligns with Friday, it creates نور على نور (light upon light), enhancing the night’s virtue.

• Practical Advice:

• Sleep 15 minutes later o…

Introduction

• Tonight marks the beginning of the last ten nights of Ramadan, a crucial period to seek Laylatul Qadr, a night better than a thousand months.

• Prophet Muhammad ﷺ advised seeking this night in the last ten, especially the odd nights.

Maximising Laylatul Qadr

• Virtue of Jama’ah Prayers:

• Isha in Jama’ah: Equivalent to half a night of worship.

• Fajr in Jama’ah: Equivalent to a full night of worship.

• Completing Taraweeh with Imam: Equivalent to another full night of worship.

• By combining these acts, rewards multiply significantly, potentially surpassing 2,500 months (~200 years) of worship every year.

• Recommended Dua:

اللهم إنك عفو تحب العفو فاعف عني

(“O Allah, You are pardoning, You love to pardon, so pardon me.”)

• Al-Afuw vs Al-Ghafur:

• Al-Ghafur: Forgiveness, sin remains recorded but punishment removed.

• Al-Afuw: Pardoning, sin is completely erased as if it never occurred.

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Significance of Angels in Laylatul Qadr

• Countless angels, led by Jibril (AS), descend, filling Earth completely.

• Reason for the name “Al-Qadr”:

• Refers to divine decree and also “constriction,” signifying the vast number of angels leaving no space empty.

• Angels witness worship, du’a, and ibadah, making this night incredibly blessed.

Du’a & Decree (Qadar)

• On Laylatul Qadr, Allah announces the year’s decree to the angels from the Lauh Mahfuz (Preserved Tablet).

• Du’a acts like submitting appeals before final decree is given to angels, emphasizing the power of sincere supplication.

• Although divine decree is predetermined by Allah, dua shows the angels the power of supplication.

Tafseer of Surah Al-An‘am (Verses 63–64): Gratitude and Returning to Allah

Verse 63: Turning to Allah in Hardship

• Allah asks rhetorically, “Who saves you from darkness and danger on land and sea?”

• When faced with calamities, humans instinctively turn to Allah (تضرعاً وخفية), humbly and privately begging for relief.

• People often promise gratitude (شكر) if Allah saves them.

Reflection on Levels of Worship (Imam al-Ghazali):

1. Fear-based Worship: Avoiding Jahannam, like a slave obeying a harsh master.

2. Reward-based Worship: Seeking Jannah, like a businessman looking for profit.

3. Gratitude-based Worship: Pure gratitude and love towards Allah, the highest level, exemplified by Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, who worshipped extensively out of thankfulness.

Welcome to BeQuranic – today is Thursday, the 20th of Ramadan.

🌙 Tonight is the 21st night of Ramadan – the beginning of the last ten nights!

🔹 We are entering the last lap of this blessed month.

🔹 Laylatul Qadr – the greatest night of the year, which is better than a thousand months, is hidden in these nights.

🔹 Rasulullah ﷺ said:

“Search for Laylatul Qadr in the last ten nights of Ramadan, in the odd nights.” (Bukhari & Muslim)

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📢 What should we do tonight?

✅ Make extra ibadah – pray, read Qur’an, make dhikr, and give charity.

✅ Make dua – especially the dua taught by Rasulullah ﷺ to Aisha (RA):

اللَّهُمَّ إِنَّكَ عَفُوٌّ تُحِبُّ الْعَفْوَ فَاعْفُ عَنِّي

Allahumma innaka ‘afuwwun tuhibbul ‘afwa fa’fu ‘anni

(O Allah, You are The Most Pardoning, and You love to pardon, so pardon me.)

📖 Why “Afu” instead of “Maghfirah”?

🔹 “Maghfirah” (غفران) means forgiveness, but the record of the sin remains.

🔹 “Afu” (عفو) means complete erasure – like it never happened!

🔹 Laylatul Qadr is the night to ask Allah to erase all our sins!

🛑 Tonight is even more special!

💡 Imam Ibn Rajab (RA) stated:

👉 If an odd night of the last ten falls on the eve of Friday (like tonight), the chances of it being Laylatul Qadr are even higher!

📢 So don’t miss this opportunity!

✅ Increase your dua, istighfar, and acts of worship – it could be our last Ramadan!

📖 Tafsir of Surah Ar-Rahman – Ayah 46 to 55

📌 Summary of what we’ve covered so far in Surah Ar-Rahman:

• Allah’s favours – Qur’an, speech, nature, sustenance, and provisions.

• The Day of Judgment – when everything will perish except Allah.

• The punishment of Jahannam – fire, boiling water, and endless suffering.

• A transition to Jannah!

🚨 After describing the horrors of Jahannam, Allah now speaks about Jannah – the ultimate motivation for the believers!

1️⃣ The Reward for Those Who Fear Standing Before Allah

Allah says:

“And for those who fear the standing before their Lord, there are two gardens.” (55:46)

📌 Who are these people?

🔹 Those who are mindful of standing before Allah on the Day of Judgment.

🔹 Those whose fear motivates them to do good and avoid sin.

🔹 Those who remain obedient to Allah, even when alone.

📢 The result?

👉 Two gardens in Jannah! 🌴🌴

Introduction:

• Tonight marks the 19th night of Ramadan, approaching the last 10 nights—the time to seek Laylatul Qadr, as recommended by Prophet Muhammad ﷺ.

• Brief reflection on the ongoing tragedy in Gaza. Prayers requested for the innocent victims, and for an end to injustice and genocide.

Key Themes and Concepts:

1. Manifestations of Allah’s Mercy (Rahmah):

• Allah’s Rahmah is demonstrated through His forgiveness.

• Humans commit sins primarily due to a lack of self-control (Jahalah), not ignorance.

• True repentance (Tawbah) involves acknowledging the wrongdoing, rectifying the error, and sincerely intending to not repeat it.

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2. Making Up Missed Worship (Qada):

• If prayers (Salah), fasting, or Zakat were missed, they must be made up.

• Calculation of missed Salah doesn’t require precision; an estimate (ballpark figure) suffices.

• Method suggested: Regularly pray additional Qada prayers after daily obligatory prayers. During Ramadan, Taraweeh prayers can also count toward Qada prayers.

• Allah completes and forgives sincerely intended Qada that remain unfinished at death.

3. Balancing Worship and Social Life:

• Islam discourages isolating oneself from society for the sake of making up missed prayers or worship.

• Worship and daily life can coexist without the need for complete isolation.

4. Understanding of Ayat (Verses):

• Allah repeats reminders through different angles and perspectives (multiple verses addressing the same topic) to foster deeper understanding.

• Rejection of clear signs and reminders characterises criminals (Mujrimin).

5. Rasulullah ﷺ as the “First Muslim”:

• Not chronological but emphasising being foremost in dedication and sincerity.

• Encouragement to excel spiritually and to always strive for the highest reward.

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh!

Welcome back to Be Quranic—it’s Tajweed Tuesday! This week, we’re diving into Ikhfa, one of the biggest Tajweed rules. We’ll also break down the ayat of the week, which is Surah Ar-Rahman, verses 46 to 55. If you missed the recitation, check out Sunday’s post!

Quick Recap of Past Lessons

Before we get into this week’s new rule, let’s go over what we’ve learned so far:

• Tajweed is about perfecting our recitation by understanding letter rules and stopping points.

• Types of errors:

• Major (Lahan Jali) – changes meaning (serious issue!).

• Minor (Lahan Khafi) – affects beauty but not meaning.

• Mad Asli (natural elongation) – Stretching vowels correctly (Alif, Waw, Ya).

• Wajibul Ghunnah – The nasal sound in Nun and Mim Shaddah.

• Nun Sakin & Tanwin rules:

• Idhar (clear pronunciation) – When Nun meets throat letters.

• Idgham (full merging) – When Nun disappears into Yarmaloon letters.

• Iqlab (switching sound to Meem) – When Nun Sakin meets Ba.

New This Week: Ikhfa – The Half-Merger

This week, we focus on Ikhfa, which literally means “hiding.” It happens when a Nun Sakin or Tanwin meets one of 14 specific letters (not Idgham, not Iqlab, not Idhar).

How do you read Ikhfa? Instead of a full merger (where the Nun disappears), you blend the Nun sound into the next letter while shaping your mouth for that letter.

Example:

• Ikhfa with Fa → Nuhasuffala (your mouth is shaped for “Fa,” but the Nun sound is still present).

• Ikhfa with Ta → Tantasiran (your tongue is positioned for “Ta,” but the Nun sound is hidden).

• Ikhfa with Sheen → In sha Allah (the Nun sound is softly blended).

It’s not a full Idgham (merger), but not a clear Idhar either—it’s the in-between!

Tajweed Breakdown of the Ayat

As we recited Surah Ar-Rahman (46–55), we spotted:

✅ Ikhfa in action – Nun Sakin blending into letters like Fa, Kaf, Zay, Ta, Sheen.

✅ Idhar (clear pronunciation) – When Nun meets a throat letter (e.g., Min Istabraq).

✅ Madd rules – Stretching for four harakats where marked.

✅ Iqlaab – Small Meem above a Nun Sakin, meaning it turns into a Meem sound.

✅ Qalqalah (bouncy letters) – The usual suspects: ق ط ب ج د.

Final Thoughts & What’s Next?

We’ve now covered all four of the Nun Sakin & Tanwin rules! 🎉

• Idhar (clear)

• Idgham (merging)

• Iqlab (switching)

• Ikhfa (hiding)

Next, we’ll start diving deeper more advanced Tajweed concepts.

Final Reminder: Keep practicing, especially in Ramadan, the best time to strengthen our Quran recitation. See you on Tafsir Thursday inshaAllah!

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh!

“The Day of Distinction (Yawm al-Furqan): Reflections on Faith, Sacrifice, and Victory”

Introduction: 17th Ramadan – Yawm al-Badr

• Significance: The 17th of Ramadan marks the historic Battle of Badr, the greatest military victory of Prophet Muhammad ﷺ.

• Ramadan has historically been a month of significant victories:

• Battle of Badr (2 AH)

• Conquest of Makkah (Fath Makkah) (8 AH)

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Why Badr Matters

• Known in the Qur’an as Yawm al-Furqan (Day of Distinction), clearly differentiating truth from falsehood.

• Sahaba who participated (Ahlul Badr, 313 companions) are ranked highest among companions.

• Guaranteed paradise (Hadith: “Do as you please; you have been forgiven.”)

• Prophet ﷺ honoured them with special recognition even in funeral prayers (six takbirs instead of four).

• Angels who participated were also the highest-ranking angels, led by Jibreel (AS).

Historical Context: Prelude to Badr

• Migration (Hijrah) forced Muslims to abandon homes, wealth, and possessions in Makkah.

• Quraysh confiscated Muslim properties, using these resources for lucrative trade caravans (Rehlat ash-Shita’i was-Saif).

• Muslims aimed to reclaim their rightful property by intercepting a Qurayshi caravan led by Abu Sufyan, triggering events leading to Badr.

From Caravan Raid to Full-scale Battle

• 313 Muslims set out initially to intercept a lightly guarded caravan, not expecting battle.

• Quraysh gathered 1,300 soldiers, heavily armed, under leadership of Abu Jahl, aiming to decisively crush Muslims.

Intervention by Shaytan (Iblis)

• Quraysh initially hesitant to leave Makkah undefended due to fear of attack from Banu Bakar tribe.

• Shaytan appeared disguised as Suraqah ibn Malik of Banu Bakar, assuring Quraysh of safety, urging them to fight.

• Quranic Reference: (Surah Al-Anfal) highlighting how Shaytan deceived and encouraged Quraysh to battle.

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Strategic Decisions and Divine Support

• Prophet ﷺ strategically positioned Muslims at wells, guided by advice from companion Hubab ibn al-Mundhir.

• Muslims experienced miraculous comfort:

• Peaceful sleep despite imminent danger.

• Gentle rain provided stability, comfort, and firm ground.

• Quraysh, by contrast, experienced discomfort:

• Heavy rain, causing fatigue and difficult terrain.

Prophet’s ﷺ Prayer and Trust in Allah

• Prophet ﷺ spent the night in fervent du’a:

• Notably repeating “Ya Hayyu Ya Qayyum” (O Ever-Living, O Sustainer).

• Made urgent du’a, recognizing critical significance: “If this small group is destroyed, Islam itself will vanish.”

• Encouragement from Abu Bakr comforting the Prophet ﷺ, assuring him of Allah’s help.

The Battle: Angels Descend

• Muslims arranged strategically (in straight lines), introducing new disciplined military tactics unfamiliar to Arabs.

• Jibreel and angels appeared, visibly fighting alongside Muslims, terrifying Quraysh.

• Shaytan (in form of Suraqah) fled upon seeing angels, declaring: “I see what you see not; I fear Allah.”

Outcomes and Consequences of Badr

• Decisive Victory: Muslims achieved overwhelming victory.

• Quraysh lost over 70 key leaders (e.g., Abu Jahl, Umayyah ibn Khalaf).

• Muslims had minimal casualties (~14 martyrs).

• Islam recognized as a significant force across Arabian Peninsula for the first time, marking the beginning of its rise.

Lessons & Reflections from Badr

• Tawakkul (Reliance on Allah): Trusting Allah fully despite overwhelming odds.

• Sincerity and Sacrifice: Muslims left everything behind purely for Allah’s sake.

• Unity in Diversity: Prophet ﷺ strategically utilized companions’ diverse backgrounds (Muhajirin & Ansar) for strength.

• Recognition of True Heroes: Encouraged knowing Sahaba (e.g., Mus’ab ibn Umair, Ali ibn Abi Talib, Hamza ibn Abdul Muttalib) as genuine role models, over fictional or superficial heroes.

Practical Takeaways:

• Tonight’s Remembrance: Emulate Prophet’s du’a:

• Recite “Ya Hayyu Ya Qayyum”, seeking Allah’s aid for personal and collective struggles.

• Reflect deeply on the legacy and lessons of Badr.

• Renew personal commitments towards Islam, inspired by Sahaba’s exemplary courage and sacrifice.

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Conclusion: Honouring Ahlul Badr

• Recognize the importance of commemorating and honouring our Islamic heritage.

• Tonight, spend extra effort in worship, remembrance, and reflection on the spirit of Badr.

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Introduction: Passing the Halfway Mark

• Tonight is the 16th night of Ramadan. We now begin reciting Dua Qunut in Witr.

Tafseer of Surah Al-An’am (Verses 49–54)

Verse 49 (Recap):

• Those who reject Allah’s signs will experience severe punishment, even from a slight “touch” of torment.

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Verse 50: The Prophet’s ﷺ Humanity and Limits of Knowledge

• “I do not claim to have the treasures of Allah, nor do I know the unseen, nor am I an angel.”

• Rasulullah ﷺ clarifies three important points to the Quraysh:

1. No worldly wealth guaranteed from following him.

2. Limited knowledge of the unseen (Ghayb).

3. Human nature, not angelic, making him relatable as a role model.

Levels of Ghayb (Unseen Knowledge):

• Ghayb Nisbi (relative unseen): known to some, not to others (e.g., something behind a person’s back).

• Ghayb revealed to the Prophet ﷺ: through revelation or special events (Isra’ wal Mi’raj).

• Ultimate Ghayb: known exclusively by Allah.

Significance:

• Prophet ﷺ never spoke about the unseen without divine guidance, demonstrated by his silence when awaiting revelation (e.g., Surah Al-Kahf incident).

Prophetic Lesson on Saying “InshaAllah”:

• Prophet ﷺ taught to always use “InshaAllah” sincerely when referring to future plans. It should not be misused as a subtle refusal or insincere promise.

Welcome to BeQuranic. Today is 16th of Ramadan which means we have officially crossed the half-way mark of this blessed month. Make sure that we make good use of the remaining days and increase our acts of worship.

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Our ayat of the week for Week 6 this term is Surah ar-Rahman 46 - 55. These ayat contains 204 letters. Rasulullah told us that every letter is rewarded with 10 hasanat and that would make this passage 2040 hasanat. And that is when you recited it in normal months. But in Ramadan our deeds are multiplied. So the simple act of reciting a few ayat of the Quran brings immense reward in this blessed month.

Practice and don’t forget to log your time for Tilawa-thon.

Introduction: Ramadan Midway Checkpoint

Tonight marks the 15th night of Ramadan, halfway through the blessed month—a perfect opportunity for self-reflection. Are we improving spiritually, or are we letting distractions pull us away?

On the 17th of Ramadan, we commemorate the Battle of Badr (Yawm al-Furqan), the decisive victory distinguishing truth from falsehood. Historically, two great victories—Badr (military) and Fath Makkah (political)—occurred during Ramadan, though the Prophet ﷺ commanded the breaking of fast during battle to maintain strength, highlighting their humanity despite immense faith.

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Tafseer of Surah Al-An’am (Verses 45-49)

Verse 45 (Recap):

• Allah assures victory to His messengers and faithful followers while cutting off the disbelievers.

Verse 46-47:

• Allah asks rhetorically: “If He were to take away your sight, hearing, and seal your hearts, who besides Allah could restore them?”

• Significance of the Heart: In Islam, the heart is the spiritual centre, governing intention, intellect, and emotional states. Modern science affirms the heart’s independent neural activity, reinforcing this profound Qur’anic concept.

• Allah repeatedly delivers the same core message (tawhid and accountability) from different angles—intellectually, emotionally, gently, or sternly—to appeal to different aspects of human nature. Humans require repeated reminders (“Sacred Monotony”) for genuine improvement.

“Sacred Monotony” Explained:

Alhamdulillah, we continue our reflections on Surah Al-An’am, verses 42 to 45, during the 14th night of Ramadan.

Tonight, Allah introduces the concept of istidraj, the subtle test where apparent blessings—like wealth, health, and power—actually lead people further away from Allah. Nations before us received messengers and reminders through hardships. If hardships failed to humble them, Allah sometimes granted them even greater worldly success, making them feel invincible—only to seize them suddenly, leaving them utterly confused and destroyed.

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Fir’aun (Pharaoh) exemplifies istidraj. He was granted immense power, wealth, health, and advanced technology (evident from Egyptian architecture and engineering achievements). Instead of gratitude, these blessings made Fir’aun arrogant, ultimately leading him to claim divinity. His argument was that continuous worldly success meant Allah approved of him. However, Allah was giving him more rope to intensify his punishment—a powerful warning against equating worldly success with divine approval.

Events in life—whether blessings or hardships—are fundamentally neutral. What truly matters is how we respond. Gratitude transforms blessings into true gifts, while arrogance or ingratitude turns them into punishments.

Historically, the Muslims achieved miraculous victories not due to their numbers, but through sincerity, humility, and reliance on Allah. For instance, the Battle of Badr (17th Ramadan) saw angels assisting a vastly outnumbered Muslim army. Likewise, the Battle of Khandaq was won without direct combat—Allah alone defeated the enemy through a fierce sandstorm. Even the conquest of Mecca was peaceful.

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh! Welcome back to BeQuranic’s Tafseer & Taraweeh podcast. Alhamdulillah, tonight is the 13th night of Ramadan. We continue our reflections on Surah Al-An’am, resuming from verse 41.

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Allah reminds the Quraysh—and us—that in moments of desperation, we instinctively turn only to Him. Even Abu Jahl, one of the Prophet’s greatest enemies, made dua to Allah at the Ka’bah for victory just before the Battle of Badr—ironically asking Allah to grant victory to the righteous, unaware he was sealing his own defeat.

Allah then speaks about how previous nations were tested with trials and calamities so they might humble themselves. Difficulties are a sign from Allah, an opportunity to pause, reflect, and correct our paths. When hardship comes, it’s either a purification of sins or a means of elevating our ranks spiritually, bringing us closer to the example of the Prophets who faced the greatest trials.

However, not everyone responds positively. Some, like Fir’aun, become even more arrogant, their hearts hardened by difficulties instead of humbled by them. Events in life aren’t inherently good or bad—it’s how we respond that defines them. A hardship can be a blessing if we respond with patience, and a blessing can become harmful if we respond with arrogance or neglect Allah.

📖 BeQuranic – Tafsir Thursday (13th Ramadan, 1446)

🎙️ Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh.

Welcome to BeQuranic – today is Thursday, 13th of Ramadan, 1446 Hijrah.

🗓️ We are nearly halfway through Ramadan.

Time is passing quickly! We only have 17 days left – let’s make the most of it!

💡 A Reminder:

We know people who were with us last Ramadan, but are no longer here this year.

We don’t know if we will live to see the next Ramadan.

So let’s increase our ibadah, Qur’an recitation, prayers, charity, and sincerity.

📿 May Allah accept our deeds and grant us piety and taqwa. Ameen!

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📖 Tafsir of Surah Ar-Rahman – Ayah 28 to 45

1️⃣ The End of Everything – The Temporary Nature of the World

Allah says:

🔹 “Everyone on it (earth) will perish.” (Surah Ar-Rahman 55:26)

🔹 “And there remains the Face of your Lord, full of Majesty and Honor.” (55:27)

💡 Lessons:

✅ This dunya is temporary – every person, every creation will perish.

✅ The only One who remains forever is Allah.

✅ The real question is not when Qiyamah will come, but what have we prepared for it?

📖 A reminder from Surah Al-An’am (6:2):

“Allah created you and decreed an appointed time (death) for you.”

🚨 Qiyamah may or may not happen in our lifetime, but our death can come at any moment.

2️⃣ Everything Depends on Allah

Allah says:

“Everyone in the heavens and the earth depends on Him. Every day, He is managing affairs.” (55:29)

💡 Lessons:

• Every single creation depends on Allah, whether they realize it or not.

• Even non-Muslims who do not ask from Allah are still dependent on Him for oxygen, food, water, and life itself.

• In Ramadan, fasting makes us feel our dependency on Allah – we realise how much we need food, water, and energy.

🔹 Reflection:

Just as we stop eating and drinking for Allah in Ramadan, we should also stop sinning for Allah in our daily lives.

3️⃣ Resurrection & Accountability – The Gathering of Jinn and Humans

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh! Welcome back to BeQuranic’s Tafseer & Taraweeh Podcast. Alhamdulillah, tonight is the 12th night of Ramadan, and we continue our study of Surah al-An’am. Before we dive in, yesterday marked an important date—the passing of Sayyidah Khadijah رضي الله عنها, the beloved wife and strongest supporter of Prophet Muhammad ﷺ. She passed away around the 11th of Ramadan in the tenth year of prophethood, a few weeks before the passing of Abu Talib, marking a year known as ‘Aam al-Huzn (the Year of Sadness).

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Yesterday, we stopped at verse 38, where Allah addresses the Quraysh’s demands for miracles. Allah reminds them—and us—that miracles are all around us: birds flying, animals walking, and the very earth we walk upon. These everyday occurrences should remind us constantly of Allah’s greatness and power, embedding Taqwa into our daily lives.

Allah then describes those who deny His signs as “deaf, mute, and trapped in darkness.” This isn’t literal deafness or blindness—it describes hearts and minds closed off to guidance. Allah can guide or misguide, but His misguidance only comes after people repeatedly choose to reject His signs. Remember, we are blessed with Islam purely through Allah’s mercy, not by our own superiority. There should be no arrogance or judgment toward others, especially those in need.

Every act of charity is an opportunity—like investing in a divine portfolio with guaranteed returns, infinitely better than worldly gains. Imagine, Allah promises a minimum return of tenfold, and during Ramadan, it can be up to seven hundred times or more! So rather than feeling superior, we should actually be thankful to those we help—they’re providing us with opportunities for our Akhirah.

We also reflected on the nature of As-Sirat Al-Mustaqim (the Straight Path). Interestingly, linguistically the word “Sirat” implies a wide path, spacious enough to accommodate many who seek Allah sincerely. Within Islam, multiple paths lead to the pleasure of Allah—some people excel in prayer, others in fasting, charity, Qur’an recitation, or even simple acts done sincerely at home. For example, a busy mother’s daily struggles taking care of her family in Ramadan can be just as rewarding—or more so—than someone who spends all their time in worship at the mosque, purely based on sincerity.

There is no single route to Jannah. The Straight Path is broad and accommodating, with numerous paths within it suited to our individual strengths and inclinations.

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh! Welcome back to BeQuranic’s Tafseer & Taraweeh Podcast. Alhamdulillah, we’ve entered the second third of Ramadan—it’s already night 11! May Allah continue to bless our efforts.

Tonight, we’re continuing with Surah al-An’am, picking up from verse 34. Allah reminds the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ that the hardships he faced were not new—they were faced by prophets before him. Whenever he felt burdened, Allah comforted him with stories of previous prophets.

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I remember an inspiring story from my teacher, Habib Kadhim al-Saggaf. Once, he visited a village in Yemen to spread Islam, but instead of welcoming him, the villagers rejected him and physically beat him. Surprisingly, he smiled afterward, saying, “Alhamdulillah, now I have a taste of what the Prophet ﷺ experienced.” If we face challenges in our lives because of our deen, let’s smile, knowing we’re following the Prophet’s path.

The Quraysh constantly demanded miracles from the Prophet ﷺ, believing it would make them believe. Allah clearly stated that no additional miracles would be shown—the Quran itself is sufficient proof. Allah beautifully emphasizes this, saying if He wished, He could have forced everyone to believe. But that’s not the purpose of human life—we were created with free will, able to choose between good and evil.

Angels are created to obey Allah unconditionally; humans have the freedom of choice. And with freedom comes responsibility and accountability. This life is a test—it’s meant to have struggles, hardship, and even evil. As Muslims, our worldview helps us understand that suffering and evil exist as part of Allah’s wisdom to test our patience, gratitude, and actions.

Welcome back to BeQuranic—it’s Tajweed Tuesday! Today, we’re diving into our ayat of the week, which is Surah Ar-Rahman, verses 37 to 45. If you missed it, check out the recitation posted yesterday!

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