1 The âConstitutionâ of Medina
I will start this chapter with the âConstitutionâ of Medina, since this text appears to stem from the earliest years of the community in Medina. Hence, it is probably older than much (but not all) of the QurʾÄnic material classified as Medinan. I subscribe to the view that the document is early Medinan, that is, drafted soon after the hijra (1/622).1 The text is important evidence for the Medinan community, which included, in the main, gentile and Jewish believers. All depictions of the Jews in the document are positive (or neutral): they are full and equal members of the Medinan coalition. Interestingly, the treaty does not mention Christians at all.
The word âConstitutionâ is a modern and misleading name, but since it is conveniently used to refer to the document, I will also use the term, though in quotation marks.2 A better word to characterize the text would be âtreaty,â which I will also use (without quotation marks) to denote the text. The text itself uses the words al-kitÄb and al-á¹£aḥīfa to refer to itself. Both al-kitÄb and al-á¹£aḥīfa can be translated as âdocument.â
Though the text does not survive on parchment or papyri, but only as cited in later Arabic historiography, there are good grounds to suppose that the text is authentic and goes back to the time of the prophet. To begin with, the style and vocabulary of the document is archaic and often difficult to interpret; in accordance with the QurʾÄn, the text refers to the in-group as âbelieversâ; and, moreover, Jews are included in the community of the believers described in the text. For these reason, most modern scholars have accepted the text as authentic and early.3 To quote Watt:
No later falsifier writing under the Umayyads or Ê¿AbbÄsids would have included non-Muslims in the ummah, would have retained the articles against Quraysh, and would have given Muhammad so insignificant a place. Moreover the style is archaic, and certain points, such as the use of âbelieversâ instead of âMuslimsâ in most articles, belong to the earlier Medinan period.4
In the same breath, it must be acknowledged that the document survives in two versions that somewhat, or in some passages considerably, differ from each other. First, it is cited in Ibn IsḥÄqâs MaghÄzÄ« in the recension of Ibn HishÄm: this is the longer version of the text.5 Second, it is also preserved in AbÅ« Ê¿Ubaydâs KitÄb al-AmwÄl.6 This version is shorter, omitting, it appears, a few passages. However, in some parts, AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd gives arguably better and more original readings than Ibn HishÄm. There are also some references to the treaty in other works, though the complete text is adduced in only these two. The text of the two versions has been critically evaluated and discussed by Michael Lecker.7 It is not known exactly how the text was preserved, in how many copies, or how it reached Ibn IsḥÄq and AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, but the little information there is suggests that it was preserved as an heirloom of the caliph Ê¿Umar I and his progeny.8 In fact, as Sean Anthony notes, Ibn IsḥÄq was criticized for including documents such as the âConstitutionâ in his work. This ran counter to the norms of Muslim scholarship, which emphasized the importance of hearing (samÄÊ¿) texts in lectures and study circles rather than consulting written works and documents.9
The treaty mentions and articulates different social categories. As an in-group term, the muʾminÅ«n, âbelievers,â are mentioned. This word is, I suggest, used on two different levels: first, it refers in particular to the gentile believers of the community. Second, as will be seen, in some parts of the text, a more general meaning is entailed in the word. The more general usage of the word categorizes also the Jews (yahÅ«d) of different Medinan tribes as part of the community of the believers. The treaty also mentions a number of tribes that are singled out as taking part in it. The text also mentions, among others, associators (in the singular, mushrik) and disbelievers (kÄfir). Moreover, âthe emigrants from Qurayshâ (al-muhÄjirÅ«n min quraysh) are referred to.10
The text begins by invoking the authority of the prophet.11 Immediately after, it describes the community around him, mentioning that the treaty is âbetween the muʾminÅ«n and the muslimÅ«n of Quraysh and Yathrib [i.e., Medina] and those who follow them, join them, and fight/struggle alongside them (jÄhada maÊ¿ahum): they are one community to the exclusion of other people (umma wÄḥida min dÅ«n al-nÄs).â12 The superordinate identity of âone community,â delineated from all other people, is articulated at the outset.
The phrase âthe muʾminÅ«n and the muslimÅ«n of Quraysh and Yathribâ has generated some discussion, and perhaps also confusion, in the scholarship. The muʾminÅ«n and the muslimÅ«n are often taken to be two distinct groups, the one perhaps coming from Mecca (Quraysh), the other from Medina (Yathrib).13 This appears somewhat unlikely to me. Two solutions are possible: 1) The construction is, as it were, a hendiadys: the word muʾminÅ«n refers to the partakers characterized as believers, while muslimÅ«n emphasizes another facet, their obedience to God and the law. 2) It is also possible that the word muslimÅ«n was added later to the text by a copyist working in the second/eighth century when that word was the primary one used to refer to the group (see chapter 8 for this development in the labels of the category). As mentioned above, the text is not preserved in its original form but adduced over a century later by Arabic writers. That said, muslimÅ«n appears in both versions: Ibn HishÄmâs SÄ«ra and AbÅ« Ê¿Ubaydâs KitÄb al-AmwÄl.
Next, the text moves to discuss the tribes partaking in the treaty. It underscores that the tribes, though they participate in a new superordinate identity, keep their old tribal organizations (ribÊ¿atihim) and are responsible for the previous bloodwites (maÊ¿Äqilahum al-Å«lÄ).14 I would suggest that the point of this is to underline that the treaty does not endanger the existing tribal system, finances, or customs of retribution. Members of the tribe do not lose their tribal identities.
Having articulated common ground between the participating tribes, the text then discusses some regulations that the individuals and groups in this community of the believers should accept:15 This is a theme that the text returns to toward the end. Various rules are mentioned. The text now refers to the group as âthe God-fearing/revering believers (al-muʾminÄ«n al-muttaqÄ«n),â16 noting that they are to be against sinners and criminals among them (Ê¿alÄ man baghÄ minhum aw ibtaghÄ dasÄ«Ê¿at áºulm aw ithm aw Ê¿udwÄn aw fasÄd), even if the sinner is someoneâs child (wa-law kÄna walad aḥadihim). However, the text does not mention what is to be done with the sinner and criminals. After this, the âdisbelieversâ (sing. kÄfir) are mentioned: probably, the reference is to people outside Medina and, hence too, this treaty. The text notes: âa believer shall not kill [another] believer in retaliation for a disbeliever, nor help a disbeliever against a believer.â The treaty articulates a somewhat strict delineation between the believers and the others, the disbelievers. The lives of the former are more valuable than the lives of the latter. Indeed, the text notes soon after: âthe believers are allies (mawÄlÄ«) to each other to the exclusion of other people,â which should be compared with Q 3:28: âThe believers should not take the disbelievers as allies (awliyÄʾ) to the exclusion of the believers.â The text also mentions that the âpeaceâ (silm) between the believers is unwavering. In this context, the treaty also mentions that âwho knowingly kills a believerâthere being evidence of thisâwill be killed in retaliation for him if the relative of the killed is not content with bloodwite.â17 Related to this, the text later notes that the interior (jawf) of Medina (Ibn HishÄm: Yathrib; AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd: al-MadÄ«na) is an inviolable and sanctified area (ḥaram) for the participants of this treaty (li-ahl hÄdhihi al-á¹£aḥīfa).18 The believers are not to shed each otherâs blood: Medina is a safe space, at least for those who take part in the coalition.
The Jews are mentioned for the first time in this part of the document. The text stipulates: âThose Jews who follow us shall have succor (al-naá¹£r) and help (al-iswa); they shall not be wronged nor [shall their enemies be] helped against [them].â19 The word âusâ denotes either the gentile believers or, alternatively, the prophet, with a plural of majesty employed in reference to him. The Jewish members of the Medinan community are mentioned later in the document as well. Here as elsewhere, they are treated as respected members of the community. This part of the document ends by defining the partakers as those who âbelieve in God and the last dayâ (Ämana bi-llÄh wa-al-yawm al-Äkhir).20 Moreover, if the believers should disagree on something, they should ârefer it to God and Muḥammad,â who are the ultimate arbiters of judgment.
The next section deals mostly with the Jewish subsets of the tribes belonging to the treaty.21 Interestingly, the text makes clear that most tribes mentioned in the early part of the treaty as partaking in it had Jewish members. The Jews were a sizable religious group in Medina. Not only that, but they were regular members of the tribes of Medina: according to this document, at least, they did not form a group of their own, their own tribe or tribes. As mentioned in chapter 2, the Jews of Western Arabia appear to have been mostly Arabic-speaking. The âConstitutionâ mentions numerous partaking tribes, such as al-Aws, one of the leading tribes of Medina, as having Jewish members.22 Whether or not these tribes were majority Jewish cannot be known with certainty, but it is possible.
The treaty specifies that the Jews shall âspend moneyâ (yunfiqÅ«na) with and for the believers as long as the Medinan coalition is at war.23 Then, the different tribes and their Jewish subgroups are mentioned. Here, the versions of Ibn HishÄm and AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd differ in the preposition that they use characterizing the Jews:
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Ibn HishÄm: âThe Jews of the tribe X are a group (umma)24 alongside with (maÊ¿a) the believers.â
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AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd: âThe Jews of the tribe X are a group (umma) from among (min) the believers.â
There are good reasons to accept AbÅ« Ê¿Ubaydâs reading as the original one.25 It places the Jews explicitly as part of the believersâ community: it is difficult to see why AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd or a copyist before him would have made the change from maÊ¿a to min.26 It is much easier to see reasons for the modification of min to maÊ¿a, which makes a delineation (somewhat) between the Jews and the believers. In Ibn HishÄmâs version, Jews are merely âalongside withâ the believers. They are not, strictly speaking, equated with them. AbÅ« Ê¿Ubaydâs reading also makes more sense in the light of the rest of the text, which characterizes Jews as full members of the Medinan coalition: the Jews are helped by the other believers, and vice versa. Uri Rubin goes further and suggest that the preposition min is used here li-l-bayÄn/tabyÄ«n, to make clear or elucidate the preceding indefinite word umma. In his understanding, the Jewish groups are called an âumma of believers,â and not only âfrom among the believers.â27 However, the difference in the two translations is not enormous.
Ibn HishÄmâs version also presents an inferior reading in what ensues. AbÅ« Ê¿Ubaydâs text continues: li-l-yahÅ«d d-y-n-hum wa-li-l-muʾminÄ«n d-y-n-hum, while Ibn HishÄm, on the other hand, has muslimÄ«n instead of muʾminÄ«n.28 As mentioned above, there might have been a tendency to place the word âMuslimsâ in the text during the second/eighth century, when it became the primary designation of the group. Be that as it may, how is the phrase li-l-yahÅ«d d-y-n-hum wa-li-l-muʾminÄ«n d-y-n-hum to be understood? The first option would be to read daynuhum, and translate: âThe loans owed to the Jews [are to be upheld], and the loans owed to the [gentile] believers [are to be upheld].â This is not necessarily wrong, but perhaps the other option, dÄ«nuhum, is preferable. If so, the passage reads: âThe Jews have their law, and the [gentile] believers theirs.â As mentioned later in this chapter, the QurʾÄn (e.g., 5:48) notes that, though the different subgroups in the community of the believers should agree on basic principles, they can follow their own legal systems in some respects. Interestingly, here the word muʾminÄ«n is used to denote only the gentile believers. The text notes that this right is not extended to those members of the community who sin or commit wrong deeds. However, this is further qualified that such criminals only bring calamity to themselves and their family (fa-innahu lÄ yÅ«tighu illÄ nafsahu wa-ahla baytihi). A Jew doing wrong would not incriminate the wider category of Jews.
I have so far only mentioned in passing an important topic in the treaty: that of warfare. This topic is key in the âConstitution.â I have noted that one of the goals of this treaty text was to found a community of believers in Medina, which included gentiles and Jews.29 They are to help each other; shedding the blood of or harming another believer is strictly forbidden. However, this is not a pacifist document. The community is menaced by an enemy without. The text notes that, should Medina be the target of a sudden attack (the verb dahama is used), the members of the community should help each other. The group members should not be laggards; rather, every fighting unit (kull ghÄziya) among the community shall follow at the heels of another (yaÊ¿qubu baÊ¿á¸uhÄ baÊ¿á¸an) in battle.30 They should contribute to the communityâs financial means by paying the nafaqa.31 Moreover, the believers shall avenge the blood of those community members who were killed in the path of God (inna al-muʾminÄ«n yubīʾu baÊ¿á¸uhum Ê¿an baʿḠbi-mÄ nÄla dimÄʾahum fÄ« sabÄ«l AllÄh).32 This is, indeed, a community at war.
Toward the end of the text, some closing formulae are put forward. The phrase inna al-birr dÅ«n al-ithm, âdevotion is better than sin,â occurs here, but it had already appeared earlier in the text, functioning as a sort of refrain. The individual responsibility of the believers is then underlined: every person is responsible for her or his deeds and their repercussions (lÄ yaksibu kÄsib illÄ Ê¿alÄ nafsihi), adding that God is the most trusted fulfiller of this treaty. The treaty, it is noted, does not help a wrongdoer or sinner (wa-innahu lÄ yaḥūlu hÄdhÄ al-kitÄb dÅ«na áºÄlim aw Äthim). Remarkably, the next statement notes that people are free to leave Medina (and, I would suggest, the treaty). Participating in it is not mandatory: âWho leaves (man kharaja) is safe, and who remains (man qaÊ¿ada) is safe in Medina, except whoever does wrong and sins.â Then comes the very last statement of the document: âGod is the protector (jÄr) of those who are pious and revere [God] (li-man barra wa-ittaqÄ), and Muḥammad is the messenger of God.â33
In my interpretation, what the treaty endeavored to do (with some success, it would seem on the basis of the QurʾÄn) is to formulate a common in-group identity34 as God-fearing believers. The Medinan coalition included people from different tribes and religious affiliation. Both the Jewish and the gentile believers are included in this big-tent community that has a positive and distinctive identity as âone community to the exclusion of other people.â Importantly, former identities (tribal affiliations, religious identities) of the Medinan coalition of the believers are not effaced or rejected but understood as sub-categories.35 In the work of modern social psychologists, such a common in-group identity has been demonstrated to facilitate a sense of belonging together and aid to the members of the novel identity (though they might have been, in the past, viewed as enemies).36 The topic of mutual succor is one that the treaty comes back to time and again. Moreover, the role that the leaders (and aspiring leaders) play in this articulation of common in-group identity has been noted in various studies. In fact, âit is by becoming emblematic of a new sense of âusâ that leaders acquire their transformational power.â37 In drafting and negotiating the treaty agreement, the prophet Muḥammad united the gentile and Jewish believers of Medina as one community set apart from other people and placed himself as its leader. The âConstitutionâ is a remarkable early witness to the processes that made him the head of a city state.
One of the significant features that arises on reading the âConstitutionâ is the fact that the presence (indeed, heavy presence) of Jewish individuals and groups among the tribes mentioned in the text is taken for granted and matter-of-factly. In chapter 2, I mustered the epigraphic evidence on Jews around Medina, which fits nicely with the picture presented by the âConstitution.â Why Christians are not mentioned in the treaty is somewhat of a mystery. The QurʾÄn indicates that they were readily present in the environment. Perhaps, in Medina, Christians existed mostly as sole individuals, without forming tribes that would have been majority Christian. Perhaps another treaty, now lost, was forged with the tribes with sizeable Christian sections. Or perhaps they were so embedded among Muḥammadâs followers, the believers, that they did not have to be mentioned.38 With the evidence at hand presently, one simply does not know.
2 The Believers in the Medinan QurʾÄn
2.1 Core Beliefs and Rituals
It is a feature of the Medinan strata of the QurʾÄn39 that the key beliefs and rituals of the believers are articulated in more detail than in Mecca. It is in particular such Medinan verses that I will discuss in this section, though some Meccan ones are incorporated as well (I will mark them where they appear). The point of this section is to dig deeper into the social categorizations put forward in the QurʾÄn. I have noted so far that the Meccan QurʾÄnic communication appears to categorize most Jews and Christians as believers; the âConstitution,â a Medinan-era document, continues this discourse, though it only deals with the gentile and Jewish believers. If explicit statements do not place Jews and Christians beyond the pale, perhaps the QurʾÄn mentions beliefs and rituals that would part ways with them? However, as will become clear, such is not the case.40
According to the QurʾÄn and the âConstitution,â merely believing is not enough for group membership: one must also carry out the duties and practices of the community. As the Meccan verse 29:2 mocks: âDo people think that they are left alone and not tested if they simply say: âWe believeâ?â Another Meccan passage, Q 49:15 defines the believers: âThe believers are those who believe in God and his messenger without doubting and who strive in Godâs path with their wealth and lives. They are the truthful.â Being a group member, then, entails both espousing the core beliefs but also performing the core rituals and practices. The latter include fighting for the community (implicitly in Q 49:15 too), which is elucidated in the next section.
Selecting the core beliefs and practices as articulated in the QurʾÄn is, naturally, a somewhat subjective matter.41 Some of the aspects, such as obedience to God and the law, have been dealt with elsewhere in this book. Here, I will note the following core beliefs and practices, which, I suggest, arise somewhat naturally from the QurʾÄn, given their numerous occurrences in the text:
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Belief in God and the last day
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Belief in the prophets and scriptures, including Muḥammad and his revelations
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Doing good deeds and being pious
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Praying and giving alms
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Fasting and performing the pilgrimage
Notably, in a few verses of the QurʾÄn, the core dogmata and praxes are also ascribed to Jews and Christians, at least a minority among them. The importance, in the QurʾÄnic discourse, of belief in God and the last day is clear in all strata of the text. For example, Q 2:4 notes that the believers are those who are sure of the afterlife (bi-l-Äkhira hum yÅ«qinÅ«n). In the previous chapter, I noted that Meccan passages quite often classify the People of the Book as believers, not only as believers in God and the last day but also in the authenticity of Muḥammadâs revelations (e.g., Q 13:36, 28:52â55). This discourse is continued in some Medinan passages, for instance in Q 3:199:42
Among the People of the Book are those who believe in God and what has been revealed to you [pl.] and what has been revealed to them. They are humble before God. They do not trade Godâs signs/revelations (ÄyÄt) for a small gain. They will receive their reward with their Lord. God is swift in reckoning.
Some verses, such as Q 5:82â86, differentiate between the Jews and the Christians: while the latter are classified as believers in this passage, the Jews are not. The discourse is varied, then, but it must be acknowledged that, throughout the QurʾÄnic strata, there are verses that state that some Jews and Christians believe, though, in the Medinan period, the overall picture is more critical toward them.
Doing good and pious deeds (indicated with Arabic words from the roots ḥ-s-n, kh-y-r, and á¹£-l-ḥ) is mentioned in the QurʾÄn as a requirement for entry to paradise (e.g., 3:133â134, 10:26). Such benevolent actions are an important part of the cementing of the in-group solidarity in the QurʾÄnic message. They are attributed to Jews and Christians too. Q 3:114 notes that some People of the Book are quick to do good deeds (yusÄriÊ¿Å«na fÄ« al-khayrÄt) and are to be classified among the pious (al-á¹£Äliḥīn).
As for praying and giving alms, it should be noted that the QurʾÄn does not communicate in detail how they should be carried out, though prostration (sajada, e.g., 7:206) and kneeling down (rakaÊ¿a, e.g., 3:43) are mentioned as part of prayer.43 It appears obvious that Jews and Christians in Arabia, as elsewhere, prayed and gave alms. Indeed, the words in the QurʾÄn indicating prayer (á¹£alÄt, written á¹£-l-w-t) and alms (zakÄt, but written z-k-w-t) were borrowed from some form of Aramaic.44 In themselves, prayer and alms-giving cannot be taken to delineate groups. As for alms, there are no explicit QurʾÄnic statements saying whether the People of the Book are carrying out their duties or not concerning alms, they are simply commanded to do this (e.g., 2:43, 98:5). However, Q 4:162 notes that some among the Jews are upholding the prayer and paying alms.
The important question regarding prayer is, are there QurʾÄnic passages that would note that Jews or Christians prayed differently than the believers or that the prayer of the People of the Book is invalid? In fact, the following Meccan passage notes that the People of the Book pray similarly to the general QurʾÄnic portrayal of prayer:
QÂ 17:107â109 (Meccan): Say [prophet]: âBelieve (pl.) in it or do not.â45 When it [the revelation] is recited to those who have been given knowledge before, they fall on their faces in prostration (sujjadan) and say: âGlory to our Lord! The promise of our Lord has been realized.â They fall on their faces weepingâit increases their humility.
Moreover, the Medinan Q 3:113 notes that some among the People of the Book are upright, reciting Godâs words (ÄyÄt) while prostrating (wa-hum yasjudÅ«n). Prostrationâthat is, the bodily and physical aspect of prayerâdoes not appear to delineate the believers, Jews, and Christians. Prostration in prayer is attested in the poetic corpus as well since, in a poem, al-AÊ¿shÄ swears by âthe Lord of those who prostrate themselves in the eveningâ (wa-rabbi l-sÄjidÄ«na Ê¿ashiyyatan), referring to Christians praying.46
As is well known, in the medieval era and nowadays Muslims consider it a religious duty to pray five times a day; the ShÄ«Ê¿Ä«s often combine the prayers, performing the prayer three times a day, though carrying out all five prayer cycles.47 However, the QurʾÄnic text appears to suggest two or three daily prayers, instead.48 If the early community prayed three times a day, this could be another instance of shared practices between the religious communities. Indeed, thrice a day is the usual Jewish practice of praying.49 Though, as far as I know, there is no evidence that late antique Christians upheld an idea of the number of daily prayers, an earlier Greek text, probably from the first century CE, The Didache, notes that Christ-believers should pray three times a day.50
Regarding the prayer direction, qibla in Arabic, sÅ«ra 251 contains verses discussing it and its possible signification. Verses 2:142â144 note that the prayer direction of Muḥammadâs group changed at some point, and verse 145 adds that the People of the Book pray toward a different direction. However, the importance of prayer direction as a boundary marker is qualified by 2:115 and 2:177. To quote the former: âTo God belongs the east and the west. Wherever you turn, the face of God is there. God is all-encompassing, knowing.â Verse 2:114 mentions âGodâs places of worshipâ (masÄjid AllÄh), so it makes sense to assume that 2:115 is indeed dealing with the direction(s) of prayer. As chapters 7â8 will note, there is (post-prophet) archaeological evidence from two places in the Near East, the Kathisma church and the open-air place of worship in Beʾer Ora, suggesting that Christians and Arabian believers prayed in the same building, each community facing toward its prayer direction. Moreover, there is literary evidence proposing that Jews and Arabian believers prayed together in the place of worship built on the Temple Mount before the Dome of the Rock (though prayer direction is not discussed in these reports).
Though prayer habits appear not to have created any kind of firm boundary between the believers and the People of the Book, the issue of the pilgrimage and fasting present more complex cases. The pilgrimage (ḥajj), probably to the KaÊ¿ba, and the fast (á¹£awm) in Ramaá¸Än are discussed in some detail in the QurʾÄn (see 2:158, 183â185, 196â200, 5:97, 22:26â29). A few things should be noted, however. First, the QurʾÄn decrees fasting in many different contexts, not only during Ramaá¸Än (see e.g., Q 4:92: as a means of repenting after killing another believer; 5:95: after hunting during the pilgrimage; 5:89: after breaking an oath). Fasting is, in the QurʾÄnic message, a broad concept; that the fast of Ramaá¸Än later emerges as one of the so-called pillars of Islam blurs this message. Moreover, it is not entirely clear what role the QurʾÄn assigns to the pilgrimage (ḥajj). Note, for instance, that Q 2:158 says that performing the ḥajj is not blameworthy for the one doing it (lÄ junÄḥ Ê¿alayhi)âhardly a wholehearted espousal.
As for the pilgrimage and fasting, the QurʾÄn never ascribes these practices to the People of the Book. On the other hand, it should be noted that the QurʾÄn never states that Jews and Christians are not participating in them. Indeed Q 2:183 suggests that the fasting practices of the believers are similar to those of the previous communities.52 It was noted in chapter 3 that the poetic corpus suggests that the pilgrimage to the KaÊ¿ba was an established (though local) practice in the pre-Islamic era and, moreover, some Christian Arabic poets, too, appear to have celebrated Mecca.53 Further research on pilgrimage and fasting practices in late antique Arabia is a desideratum, but until new epigraphic, archaeological, or other material evidence comes to light, the topic remains somewhat in the realm of speculation.
All in all, when looking at the core beliefs and practices that the QurʾÄn enjoins the believers to follow, interesting conclusions emerge: In fact, most of the dogmata and deeds are also ascribed to Jews and Christians as well. The QurʾÄn explicitly acknowledges that (at least some) Jews and Christians carry out the core practices and espouse the core beliefs. Moreover, as a matter of fact, one should note the difference between the two discourses: generally speaking, whereas the QurʾÄnic instructions to the believers are prescriptive (indicating what the believers should be doing and believing, though at the present they might not), the QurʾÄnic communication about the People of the Book is oftentimes descriptive (indicating what the Jews and Christians are actually doing).
2.2 The Persecuted Emigrants (muhÄjirÅ«n and muhÄjirÄt), Fighting for the Community
The Medinan passages of the QurʾÄn (e.g., Q 60:10) portray the community as including persecuted emigrants (muhÄjirÅ«n and muhÄjirÄt). The concept of being an emigrant is connected with the notion of the community being at risk and under attack, and for the defense of which the emigrants (and Medinan believers) should fight. The QurʾÄnic category of the muhÄjirÅ«n is, in later Islamic interpretive tradition, understood to signify those Muslims who emigrated (performed the hijra) from Mecca to Medina, but as Mette Mortensen has shown, the original QurʾÄnic notion is also connected with spiritual secession, ascetism, and physical fighting.54 She describes the QurʾÄnic muhÄjirÅ«n as follows:
Going out, however, is not without cost or sacrifice, which leads to what I would argue is an essential concept in the definition of the QurʾÄnic muhÄjirÅ«n: asceticism. Emigrating in the way of God is encouraged in the QurʾÄn, but this emigration entails deprivation and sacrifice in terms of loss of wealth, property, and possibly even the lives of the emigrants, a fact which the QurʾÄn acknowledges (Q8:72; Q9:20). However, the understanding of the concept of asceticism that I would like to make use of here is not primarily centered on deprivation, but on the original Greek meaning of the word (áskÄsis): âexerciseâ or âtraining.â55
The Medinan community, on the basis of the QurʾÄnic text and the âConstitution,â was a community which was menaced by outsider forces. The QurʾÄn notes that some of the believers had been expelled from their homes (Q 3:175, 59:8). It was a community that had to be prepared to fight. Being a muhÄjir, emigrant, entailed that one had to be ready for fighting, qitÄl, and striving, jihÄd.
Warfare in the name of and defense of religion was a rather popular concept in the Near East of late antiquity, as chapters 2 and 3 have mentioned. The pre-Islamic South Arabian inscriptions evidence that God was adduced as providing victory on the battlefield by both the Jews and Christians. It is also attested in the early sixth-century Ethiopic inscription that begins, âGod is power and strength, God is power in battles.â56 Contemporary with the life of the prophet, the emperor Heraclius (r. 610â641) invoked the idea of holy war against Sasanid Persia. It appears that Heraclius proclaimed that those who fall while fighting are to be regarded as martyrs. Tommaso Tesei has recently suggested that Heracliusâ war propaganda might undergird the QurʾÄnic discourse on war, which shows similar features.57 The idea that God not only condones but also helps in warfare appears to have been commonly accepted in late antiquity.
Fighting, qitÄl, and striving, jihÄd, are rather important costly signals that the Medinese community of believers is encouraged to carry out in the QurʾÄn (and also in the âConstitution,â as noted above).58 Fighting is often directly connected with the hijra, emigration or flight to Medina. QurʾÄn 2:218 states: âThose who believe and those who emigrate (hÄjarÅ«)59 and strive (jÄhadÅ«) in Godâs path, aspire for the mercy of God.â On evidence, it appears that much of the community that was forming in Medina was fleeing for its life. The community was fighting to defend itselfâthough occasionally also to expand. The activities of qitÄl and jihÄd are often said to be done fÄ« sabÄ«l allÄh, âin Godâs pathâ (e.g., Q 8:74), or even fÄ« allÄh, âin Godâ (Q 22:78 cf. Q 29:69). They are depicted as arduous tasks but nevertheless as something commendableâthere is no QurʾÄnic passage that states generally that fighting or striving are deeds that should be avoided (that is, if carried out by the believers, not the enemy). JihÄd, which sometime later becomes the most common designation for religious (or sacred or just) warfare, is not necessarily always synonymous with qitÄl in the QurʾÄn; it can also refer to other forms of exertion. But in many verses the synonymity can be supposed. The expression fÄ« sabÄ«l allÄh, moreover, is perhaps not automatically related to fighting in the QurʾÄn, even if this later becomes the primary context for it, as can also be seen in the epigraphic evidence of this study. Let me next give an exposition of the QurʾÄnic verses. The discussion is thematic: it is very difficult to come up with a chronology of the ethics of war.
I will start with qitÄl and qÄtala. Verse 2:216 states that âfighting (al-qitÄl) has been decreed to you (pl.), although it may be loathsome to youâ (see also Q 4:77, 47:20). In a much-discussed verse (Q 9:29), it is commanded: âFight those who do not believe in God and the last day, who do not deem illicit what God and His messenger have proclaimed to be such, and who do not follow the law of justice (dÄ«n al-ḥaqq) from those who have been given the Book, until they humbly pay the jizya Ê¿an yad.â60 It should be noted that âthose who have been given the Bookâ (that is, the People of the Book) are not mentioned as an enemy category all and sundry. Rather, only those among them who do not believe in God or who are not law-observant should be fought. As I have endeavored to argue, the QurʾÄn does not categorically suggest that Jews or Christians are not believers or law-observing.
Fighting is sometimes connected with âspending moneyâ (anfaqa) in Godâs path (Q 57:10). The enemy is mentioned as an active partner in fighting too, although usually left anonymous: âfight (pl.) in Godâs path against those that fight against youâ (Q 2:190; see also 3:13). The QurʾÄnic discourse on war, in general, includes the notion that warfare should be continued (only) as long as the enemy does too. The QurʾÄn mentions different preconditions for fighting: the believers should not fight at the sacred precinct (al-masjid al-ḥarÄm) if they are not attacked first. If that happens, they can kill the enemy since âsuch is the recompense of the unbelieversâ (Q 2:191; see also 2:217). Furthermore, hypocrites (al-munÄfiqÅ«n) and unbelievers should be fought only as long as they fight against the believers. If the former leave the latter at peace, God has not allowed fighting (Q 4:90; cf. 9:7â13).
However, not all present in the QurʾÄnic milieu are willing to fight: the hypocrites (alladhÄ«na nÄfaqÅ«) are said to have rejected the command, pretending not to know how to fight (Q 3:167). Those who take part in fighting are also contrasted with those who stay behind (qaÊ¿adÅ«, e.g., Q 3:168, 9:81). In one verse, the QurʾÄn (4:75) asks the audience why they are not fighting in Godâs path and for the weak men, women, and children. Citing Firestone, the copious verses that display opposition to Godâs commands to fight suggest âthat the Muslim community was far from unified in its view on warring on behalf of religion and the religious community.â61 In some instances (e.g., Q 48:16), those unwilling to fight are described as ânomadsâ (aÊ¿rÄb). In the QurʾÄn, âhypocritesâ (munÄfiqÅ«n) and âthose who stay behindâ are particularly clear examples of free-riders that were not willing to perform costly deeds, such as fighting, for the in-group. Their existence is seen in the QurʾÄn as a problem for intragroup cohesion and solidarity.62 Often, Islamic exegesis and modern scholarship treat the munÄfiqÅ«n as a group wavering in faith63 but it is perhaps better to interpret them as purported free-riders that waver in deeds.
This aversion toward fighting is said to have been usual in earlier communities as well: after the life of Moses, the Israelites are commanded to fight but most of them turn away (tawallaw, Q 2:246). However, the prophet Muḥammad is somewhat more successful in conveying the command to fight, leading the believers to their battle stations and victory at Badr (Q 3:121â127). Elsewhere the QurʾÄn (8:65) enjoins him to encourage the believers to fight, and many people are indeed said to have fought steadfastly on the side of the prophets (in plural, Q 3:146).
As stated above, jihÄd, âstriving,â in the QurʾÄn did not necessarily always signify physical fighting to the original audience of its message. However, later it became the standard appellation for holy war. Since both qitÄl and jihÄd are often said to be done fÄ« sabÄ«l allÄh, clearly the QurʾÄn is somehow locating the two concepts in the same context, and in some cases it is rather clear that the QurʾÄn is in fact portraying jihÄd as physical struggle (Q 8:70â75, 9:14â20). This is connected with otherworldly rewards: jihÄd is connected with the entrance to paradise in Q 3:140â143. Above it was stated that those who fight are contrasted with those who stay behind, and the same is the case for those who strive (al-mujÄhidÅ«n) as well (Q 4:95, 9:81, 9:86). In Q 9:73 and 66:9, the prophet himself is addressed: âO prophet, strive against the unbelievers and hypocrites (jÄhid al-kuffÄr wa-l-munÄfiqÄ«n) and be tough against them. Their refuge is Hell.â In some verses (e.g., Q 49:15), striving with willingness to spend oneâs money and even life is mentioned as one of the conditions for being a believer, alongside believing in God and His prophet. As for the enemies of the believers, they strive too, but only to try to convince the believers that they should associate other beings with God (Q 29:8, 31:15).
Killing (qatala) is in itself negative in the QurʾÄn: to give some examples, historical communities such as the people of Moses are described as having killed prophets (Q 2:61)64 as well as other individuals (Q 2:72). In a recurring QurʾÄnic reproach, humanity is admonished because every time God has sent messengers bringing something that people do not like, they either disbelieve them or kill them (e.g., Q 2:82).65 One of Adamâs sons killed the other, which was a calamity (Q 5:27â30). People are instructed not to kill each other (Q 4:29), or their children (Q 6:140 and 151), and a believer should not kill another believer, lest he face Hell (Q 4:92â93). Pharaoh is portrayed in a negative vein as killing and ravaging (Q 7:127, 7:141, 40:26); what is more, Josephâs brothers scheme to kill him (Q 12:9). There are some instances, however, where killing (qatala), not just fighting (qÄtala), is required. In Q 2:190â191, believers are commanded to kill those who fight against them, since âdiscord is worse than killingâ (al-fitna ashadd min al-qatl; this phrase also occurs in Q 2:217). Hypocrites (al-munÄfiqÅ«n) too should be captured or killed (Q 4:88â89) as well as associators (al-mushrikÄ«n), if they do not repent (Q 9:5). The text of Q 8:17 describes a battle between the believers and unbelievers and states âit was not you (pl.) who killed them, but rather God killed them.â Elsewhere too, God is shown as taking an active part in the fight between believers and unbelievers (Q 8:36â39, 9:14).
Whereas the QurʾÄnic attitude towards killing is context-specific, being killed (qutila) for God is usually portrayed as commendable: âDo not say to/about those killed in Godâs path (li-man yuqtalu fÄ« sabÄ«l allÄh) that they are dead. Rather, they are aliveâ (Q 2:154; see also 3:169). It is furthermore stated that falling in Godâs path is a better bargain than amassing fortunes in this world (Q 3:157â158). Indeed, mercantile terminology is usual in these passages describing oneâs willingness to sacrifice oneself for Godâs cause: âLet those of you who are willing to trade the life of this world for the life to come fight in Godâs path. To anyone who fights in Godâs path, whether killed or victorious, We shall give a great rewardâ (Q 4:74). âGod has purchased from the believers their lives and their properties in exchange for [the promise] that they will have Paradise. They fight in Godâs path, so they kill and are killedâ (Q 9:111; see also 61:10â12). Paradise is, then, the explicit QurʾÄnic reward for those who fall while fighting as it is for other groups who do good (Q 3:195): their deeds will not come to naught (Q 47:4). This promise naturally only applies to the believers and not their enemies: the latter will be killed or expelled and then face painful punishment, except for those who repent (Q 5:33). In the QurʾÄn, words of the root sh-h-d seem to relate to witnessing rather than martyrdom. Over 150 occurrences of such words appear in the QurʾÄn but perhaps only Q 3:140 and 4:69 could have anything to do martyrs.66
This book has argued that Muḥammadâs community was an eschatological one: he and his followers believed that, since the end was nigh, people should repent and (if they had not already done so) acknowledge God as the only divine being, recanting associationism (shirk) and any traces of idolatry (e.g., al-maysir). In my opinion, what is remarkable in the QurʾÄnic discourse on warfare is that it has nothing to do with this eschatological belief: though the discourse is a rather important theme in the Medinan strata, I am not aware of any passage that would state that warfare, fighting, or conquests would initiate the end times. The QurʾÄn, I would suggest, is the reaction to the specific context of the Medinan community, which was obliged to fight the enemies. It is true that a paradisal reward is promised to those who fall on the battlefield. But this promise is individual and not connected with the eschaton that was upon all.
It needs to be emphasized that there are no QurʾÄnic passages that suggest that Muḥammadâs believers were engaged, first and foremost, or categorically, in war with Jews and Christians; even in the case of Q 9:29, the People of the Book are mentioned only in passing, as a sidenote. In addition to Q 9:29, there are two other passages that need to be discussed in this connection. The first is Q 3:111, which notes that âif they [the sinners among the People of the Book mentioned in Q 3:110] meet you in battle (wa-in yuqÄtilukum), they will flee and have no helpers.â Here, as in Q 9:29, the statement hardly appears to include categorically all Jews and Christians but rather a transgressing segment among them. Moreover, the expression âif they meet you in battleâ (wa-in yuqÄtilukum) appears to signify a possible event rather than a certain or recurring one. Another important passage is Q 33:25â27, which depicts a battle between the believers and the disbelievers which ends in the triumph of the former. Q 33:26 explicitly mentions âthose from among the People of the Book who aided them [scil. the disbelievers]â (alladhÄ«na áºÄharÅ«hum min ahl al-kitÄb). According to this pericope, in one clash at least, some People of the Book were supporting the disbelieversâbut this, again, explicitly concerns only a portion of them and, more importantly still, Q 33:25â27 makes a clear difference between the disbelievers and the People of the Book, which are mentioned as distinct social categories. All in all, the battle lines are, hence, not âMuslimsâ versus Jews and Christians in the QurʾÄn, but believers versus disbelievers; what is more, the latter should be fought only as long as they themselves are belligerent. As will become clear in what follows, the Medinan QurʾÄnic strata accept some Jews and Christians as part of the believer community: one supposes that this would mean that they also took part in the fighting for the in-group. The âConstitution,â as mentioned above, quite clearly supposes, or at least demands, that the Jews are fighting against the enemy alongside the other believers.
3 The People of the Book in the Medinan Period
Though scholars might acknowledge that the Meccan QurʾÄnic discourse represents a stage when the People of the Book could be considered group members, it is still common in scholarship to suggest that a reified, distinct Islam must have been present in Medina, at least in the last years of the prophet.67 However, as will be argued in what follows, the Meccan kerygma of gentile believers co-existing with Jewish and Christian believers is continued in the Medinan layers, notwithstanding the criticism that is directed toward some Jews and Christians and some Jewish and Christian dogmata.68
It is true that certain Medinan QurʾÄnic passages appear to equate, categorically or in part, the People of the Book with the disbelievers and the associators. For instance, Q 2:105 notes that âthe disbelievers among the People of the Bookâ and âthe associatorsâ do not want good for the believers. Q 3:186 is similar in content, mentioning that the associators and the People of the Book will say hurtful words about the believers. Verses 4:51â52 note that some People of the Book still worship idols (al-jibt wa-l-á¹ÄghÅ«t) and, because of this, have been cursed by God. Like the mushrikÅ«n, associators, they are not, then, monotheist enough, though the exact reason for the claim of Q 4:51â52 is unclear. The passage Q 3:98â99 enjoins the prophet to ask the People of the Book why they deny Godâs signs or revelations (ÄyÄt) and, furthermore, divert the believers from Godâs way. Moreover, a group among the People of the Book endeavors to revert the believers to disbelief (Q 3:100; similarly, Q 2:109). Verses 3:187â188 and 5:12â14 represent passages of supersession: earlier in history, God made his covenant (mÄ«thÄq) with the People of the Book, but, as a group, they have lost the covenant, which now belongs to the believers.
SÅ«ra 5 consists of many polemics about the People of the Book.69 Verse 5:65 notes that âif only (law) the People of the Book believed, We would absolve them of their bad deeds and make them enter the gardens of bliss.â The word law, introducing the conditional sentence, suggests that most of them do not believe. The verse does not describe, however, a completely hypothetical or impossible situation, since Q 5:66 notes that some of the People of the Book are upright (for a similar law sentence, which is then modified, see Q 3:110). Q 5:51 goes as far as noting that the believers should not take Jews or Christians as awliyÄʾ, friends or allies.70 This appears to be qualified by Q 5:57â58, which notes that the believers should not take as awliyÄʾ those among the People of the Book who mocked the believersâ law (dÄ«n) and call to prayer.
There are various QurʾÄnic passages that bewail the fact, or at least the imagined notion, that the Jews and the Christians are vehemently arguing with each other. In Q 2:113, the two groups claim that the other does not have anything to stand on. In Q 2:111, furthermore, they are portrayed as claiming that only their own group will get to paradise, a notion that the QurʾÄn rejects.71 Q 5:18 has them argue over which group is âthe children of God and His loved ones.â72 Q 3:65 shows them debating who owns the patriarch Abraham. According to my reading, these passages do not say that the Jews or Christians will not get to paradise or that they have no claim to the Abrahamic pedigree; rather, the QurʾÄn asserts that the Jews and Christians are not the only ones to do so. The gentile believers also have a potential to accomplish these things.
SÅ«ra 98 proffers an interesting case, first adopting a censuring and then apparently a more confident stance vis-à -vis the People of the Book.73 It starts by noting that a disbelieving group among them (alladhÄ«na kafarÅ« min ahl al-kitÄb) and the associators were unhinged until clear evidence came to them: a messenger of God, reciting pure scrolls, in which there are upright writings (kutub qayyima) (Q 98:1â3). The wording of these verses might suggest that they accepted this evidence and messenger, but the opposite is true, the QurʾÄn asserts: they actually became more divided (Q 98:4). The fate of the associators and the disbelievers among the People of the Book is certain: the eternal fire of hell (Q 98:6). However, those who believe (of the People of the Book?) are âthe best of creaturesâ (Q 98:7): they will enjoy the eternal grace of God in paradise as a reward for their reverence for God (Q 98:8). The critical pronouncements surveyed in this section are, indeed, highly remarkable and there is no need to try to hide the fact that they exist in the QurʾÄn. As will become clear in what follows, however, they are far from being the sole message or tone among the Medinan QurʾÄnic passages.
It is worth underscoring that the Medinan QurʾÄnic communication also includes very positive statements about the People of the Book. The idea that the description of Jews and Christians becomes increasingly sour, with a final and decisive âparting of the waysâ occurring toward the end of the prophetâs life, and with the word al-islÄm being understood as reified Islam, is not tenable, in my opinion, and will be discussed in more detail below in this chapter.
For instance, Q 5:66 notes that among the People of the Book there is an umma muqtaá¹£ida, âmoderate community,â though most of them are evil-doers. The concept of umma muqtaá¹£ida can be connected with another concept, umma wasaá¹, âmiddle community,â which in Q 2:143 is an appellation used for the in-group. Furthermore, Q 3:113 notes that among the People of the Book is an umma qÄʾima, âupright community.â Verse Q 3:75 notes that some of the People of the Book are indeed trustworthy. The importance of the passage Q 3:110â115 should be emphasized. It is clear proof that, in the QurʾÄn, the development is not simply one of growing hostility toward the People of the Book. Rather, in this case, Q 3:110â112 paint a very bleak picture of those that have been given the Book before: though some of them are believers (minhum al-muʾminÅ«n), most of them are sinners (aktharuhum al-fÄsiqÅ«n, Q 3:110). Not only that, Q 3:111 describes them as enemies (though cowards) in battle, and Q 3:112 says that they have invited the wrath of God because they have disbelieved His verses and killed prophets, being disobeying and transgressing. The tone changes drastically in Q 3:113, which, I would suggest, marks a later interpolation suffixed to Q 3:110â112. Verse 3:113 proclaims that some of the People of the Book recite Godâs verses and prostrate throughout the night. Q 3:114 notes that they believe in God and the last day, race to do good things, and are righteous. For this, they will receive the rewardâin all likelihood to be understood as the heavenly reward (Q 3:115).
A similar pronouncement in tone, and possibly a similar a process of QurʾÄnic development, can be found in Q 2:120â121. Verse 2:120 begins very critically by noting that the Jews and Christians will not be satisfied with âyouâ (the prophet) until the prophet follows their milla, probably to be understood here as âtheir discourse/understanding of faithfulness (toward God).â The verse draws a line between the Jews, Christians, and the prophetâs community. Verse 2:121, which could be a later interpolation because of the drastic change in tone, suggests a very different situation: âThose who We have given the Book [before] recite it as it should be recited. They believe in it. As for those who disbelieve in it, it is they who are losers.â Here, the People of the Book are true believers in and readers of the scripture. It is some other people, apparently outside the category of the People of the Book, who reject the revelation(s).
The Medinan discourse is open for the Jews and Christians to join the group (as Jews and Christians) or, at the very least, act as allies to the prophetâs community:
Q 3:64: Say: âPeople of the Book, come to a common word (kalima sawÄʾ) between us and youâthat we worship none except God, do not associate anything/-one with Him, and do not take one another as lords instead of God.â But if they [the People of the Book] turn away, say: âBear witness that we are obedient (muslimÅ«n).â
As the Meccan QurʾÄn noted, the People of the Book can be and indeed are obedient (muslimÅ«n, Q 28:53, 29:46). In the Medinan Q 3:64, the point is not that the People of the Book are automatically not muslimÅ«n, or that the muslimÅ«n form a different social category, it is that if they do not agree on the basic premises of monotheism, they also lose their status as law- and God-obeying people.74 Similarly, Q 2:139 notes that God is the Lord of allâthere is no need to debate this.
One of the interesting aspects of the QurʾÄnic representation of the People of the Book is that some verses claim that at least some of them have rejected (kafara), hid (katama or akhfÄ), or misconstrued (ḥarrafa) parts of the scripture. As has been seen in connection with other features of the QurʾÄnic communication, this discourse also has its earlier precursors in Christian literature. Claims and accusations about the corruption of the scriptures or their interpretation were rather widespread in late antiquity. For instance, Tertullian writes the following about his opponents (the âhereticsâ) around 200â¯CE:75
We [âthe orthodoxâ] are of them [scil. the scriptures], before there was any change, before you mutilated them. Mutilation must always be later than the original. It springs from hostility, which is neither earlier than, nor at home with, what it opposes. Consequently, no person of sense can believe that it is we who introduced the textual corruptions into Scripture, we who have existed from the beginning and are the first, any more than he can help believing that it is they, who are later and hostile, who were the culprits. One man perverts Scripture with his hand, another with his exegesis. If Valentinus seems to have used the whole Bible, he laid violent hands on the truth with just as much cunning as Marcion. Marcion openly and nakedly used the knife, not the pen, massacring Scripture to suit his own material.
Moreover, the pseudo-Clementine works articulate the idea that Satan has slipped some pericopes into the scripture.76 Such intra-Christian accusations of âmutilatingâ and âmassacringâ the scripture were often, I suggest, more heated and intense than what the QurʾÄnic accusation of taḥrÄ«f, âmisconstrual of the scriptures,â contained. It should also be noted that some late antique Christians had argued that the Jewsâ scripture was, in effect, falsified, since the original one had been destroyed during the Babylonian captivity.77
As regards this point, as many others, the QurʾÄnic portrayals of the People of the Book, earlier scriptures, and current revelation received by the prophet disagree with each other. The previous chapter noted that QurʾÄnic verses explicate that the People of the Book actually believed in Muḥammadâs message and accepted his mission. Moreover, Medinan passages such as Q 4:163 note that his revelation is identical, or similar, to earlier revelations: âIndeed, We reveal to you [the prophet] similarly as (ka-mÄ) We have revealed to Noah and the prophets after him; and We have revealed to Abraham, Ishmael, Isaac, Jacob, and the tribes, and Jesus, Job, Jonah, Aaron, and Solomon; and to David We gave Psalms (zabÅ«ran).â78 In this, the prophet Muḥammad is pictured as akin to other prophets of the sacred history (given in the verse in no chronological order). Indeed, in some passages of the QurʾÄn (e.g., Q 5:48, 5:68), the People of the Book are enjoined to believe in their scriptures and the revelation of Muḥammad, the latter being a confirmation of the earlier books.
These are rather positive passages on the prophetical books and, by extension, the People of the Book. However, Q 5:15 paints a different picture, noting that the prophet Muḥammad has come to explain matters the People of the Book have hidden from the scripture. This verse, as well as Q 5:19, emphasizes that the prophet has come specifically to the People of the Book after a long hiatus without a messenger or a warner. Hence, though the prophet underscored his gentile (ummÄ«) credentials, as explored in chapter 5, his message is also for the People of the Book to adopt. Verse 2:75 notes that âa group of them [scil. the People of the Book]â misconstrues Godâs word (yuḥarrifÅ«nahu) after hearing and understanding it; Q 2:79 even notes that some people âwrite the scripture with their own hands, claiming it is from Godâ (yaktubÅ«na al-kitÄb bi-aydÄ«him thumma yaqÅ«luna hÄdhÄ min Ê¿inda allÄh). Verse 2:85 notes that they believe in part of the scripture, while rejecting (takfurÅ«na) the rest. Verse 2:101 continues this theme by noting that a group among the People of the Book have âcast ⦠the Book of God behind their backs.â Though this misrepresentation of or the refusal to believe in the whole of the Book is usually ascribed to an anonymous group among the People of the Book, Q 4:46 notes that it is specifically the Jews who âmisconstrue the words out of their proper placesâ (yuḥarrifÅ«na al-kalima Ê¿an mawÄá¸iÊ¿ihi).
In any case, the QurʾÄnic accusation that the People of the Book have rejected or misapprehended part of the scripture can be characterized as rather mild.79 There is no talk of them having âmassacredâ the scripture, as Tertullian remarked concerning his opponents. Nor is there any talk that the Torah, the Evangelion, or other books would be corrupt as such. What is important to note here is that there is no scriptural supersessionism in the QurʾÄn: it does not claim that the previous holy books have become undone or that they themselves are fraudulent.80 Indeed, Q 5:68 propounds that the faith of the People of the Book is not based on anything if they do not follow the Torah and the Evangelion. Rather, the QurʾÄn claims, it is merely that some People of the Book have misconstrued some interpretations concerning the scriptures. What these errors in interpretation might be is left unexplained by the QurʾÄn, but one suspects that what is meant is the reluctance by some People of the Book to accept Muḥammadâs revelation as being of divine origin, claiming that their own scripture is full and complete and cannot be added to. Verse 2:146 could hint at this: it notes that though the People of the Book should and indeed do recognize the current revelation as true, they hide the truth.
To finish this section, I should ask (and try to answer) how we are to account for the QurʾÄnâs conflicting portrayals of the People of the Book. I have already argued that there is no simple development from the positive toward the negative description since passages such as Q 2:120â121 and 3:110â115 suggest that, in some cases, more positive material was interpolated into a more negative, and earlier, one. Moreover, the very late sÅ«ras, such as Q 5, also include positive portrayals of Jews and Christians (for instance, Q 5:62, 5:66).
It could be claimed that the QurʾÄnâs positive descriptions of the People of the Book are wishful thinkingâas if the QurʾÄn was keeping the door open for the People of the Book to join the group though they never didâand the more negative ones describe the situation on the ground more accurately. I am arguing for the exact opposite: it makes more sense to suppose that the QurʾÄnâs positive and neutral portrayals of the Jews and Christians describe the inter- and intra-group situations81 more truly, whereas the pejorative passages are due to the rhetorical polemical style and the common phenomenon of categorizing social groups simplistically, with a tendency to minimize (real and empirically observable) inter-group similarities and to emphasize (supposed and construed) inter-group differences.
My line of thought as regards this issue is informed by similar readings of the early and late antique Christian literature,82 as well as the social identity theory, which posits that, in their discourse, people strive for clear-cut categories, though the social world is made up of a much more diverse reality.83 The scholars of early and late antique Christianity have noted in their respective studies that the tendency of many early Christian texts to polemicize against, e.g., the Jews is not always because the Christian-Jewish identities were clear and separate, nor that the inter-group relationships were categorically fraught but because the authors of these Christian texts endeavored to create distinct social categories and paint the Christians in positive colors. The texts are proof that the elites have started to articulate the difference by polemics, not that such differences were widely accepted by the believers. Such a reasoning is rarely considered in the context of the QurʾÄnâs polemical passages.84 Otherwise put: though some QurʾÄnic passages polemicize against the Jews and Christians and appear to draw a distinction from them, this might mean the (very early) beginning of the process of differentiation rather than its completion. However, even this budding process did not proceed on a clear trajectory, since later QurʾÄnic passages are sometimes milder in tone and qualify earlier, more polemical ones. Few scholars of early Christianity nowadays see Christian identity as âreadyâ or distinct from Judaism when, for example, the Gospel of Matthew was written (approximately 80â100â¯CE, decades after the life of Jesus), though it contains some anti-Jewish, in particular anti-Pharisaic, polemics. Rather, the Gospel of Matthew was written for and by Jews. In contrast, many scholars of early Islam see Islamic identity âreadyâ and distinct from the People of the Book already during the life of the prophet, since the QurʾÄn contains some anti-Jewish and anti-Christian passages.
This section has surveyed the QurʾÄnic passages on the combined group âthe People of the Book,â with some references to those mentioning âJewsâ or âChristiansâ in particular. Though the mentions of Jews and Christians often go hand in hand in the QurʾÄnic discourse, there are some differences in how they are portrayed. In the next sections, I will discuss these specifics.
4 The Jews in the QurʾÄn
In the Medinan QurʾÄnic communication, descriptions of the Jews and Israelites85 are more negative than the those of the Christians. For instance, Q 5:82, which will be discussed in more detail below, juxtaposes Jews and associators, while depicting the Christians as the allies of the believers and the prophet. Verse 5:64 notes, in a somewhat obscure way, that the Jews claim that âthe hand of God is chained,â a statement which is, naturally, rejected by the QurʾÄn.
Verses 9:30â31 notes that Jews say that Ê¿Uzayr is the son of God, while the Christians say the same of Jesus (al-masīḥ). Both groups are denigrated for these views. The identity of this Ê¿Uzayr has perplexed commentators: he is often understood to be Ezra, but others have suggested that he might be interpreted as Azazel, one of the âchildren of God,â that is, angels, or in this case, a fallen angel.86 However, such a derivation appears etymologically problematic, if it is not supposed that the last r of Ê¿Uzayr should actually be read as a z and the name be vocalized differently.
However, not all descriptions of the Jews are censorious. Verse 5:44 notes that the Torah has been sent as a guidance and light to the people; with the Torah, the obedient prophets have judged among people. The Jewish rabbis and scholars (al-rabbÄniyyÅ«n wa-l-aḥbÄr) safeguard and confirm the Torah, according to which they should judge. This is, then, an affirmative depiction of the Jewish religious authorities.87 Verse 2:122 enjoins the Israelites to remember the favors of God to them, while Q 2:39â47 contain a longer exposition on the covenant and Godâs favors to Israel. The undertone is indeed very positive. Verses 2:83â85, however, contain a much more negative narrative on the covenant that Israel has lost. This is connected with other QurʾÄnic verses of supersessionism, mentioned above, according to which Jews and Christians, as groups, have lost the covenant with God: they no longer automatically belong to the righteous in-group, but they might as individuals.88
In the previous section, it was noted that 3:110â115 contain what I suggested to be an earlier, polemical passage on the People of the Book (QÂ 3:110â112) and a later interpolation, the tone of which is more positive (QÂ 3:113â115). The same appears to be the case of QÂ 4:160â162, which begins negatively but then, suddenly, the message becomes very benevolent toward the Jews, or at least a faction among them:89
160 Because the Jews did wrong and hindered many [people] from Godâs path, We forbade them some good foods (á¹ayyibÄt) that had been permitted to them [before].90 161 [This was also because they] took interest though this had been prohibited and unjustly consumed peopleâs property. We have prepared a painful punishment for the disbelievers among them. 162 But those among them who are well-versed in knowledge and believers91 believe in what has been revealed to you [scil. the prophet] and what has been revealed before youâand those who keep the prayer and pay the alms and believe in God and the last day: to them We shall give a great reward.
Verse 4:162 depicts some Jews as believers in God, the last day, and all the revelationsâincluding Muḥammadâs. They also signal the important group rituals of praying and giving alms. Not for nothing are they explicitly identified as âbelieversâ (al-muʾminÅ«n) in this verse.
In a similar vein, verse 4:46 notes that few (qalÄ«l) Jews are believers. At first blush, this is a negative characterization. But it must be emphasized that the verse notes that some Jews are indeed believers, that is to say, group members. Similarly, Q 2:83 notes that the Israelites have âturned awayâ from Godâs covenant, âexcept for a fewâ (illÄ qalÄ«lan). Rather than categorical denunciation of the Jews, these verses can be read as an explicit avowal that there was a continuous presence of some Jews in Muḥammadâs group, beginning with Mecca, through the early years of Medinaâas the âConstitutionâ makes abundantly clearâto the later period there. In fact, as chapter 8 will elucidate, Jews belonging to the community of the Arabian believers are attested in texts written after the death of Muḥammad as well.
An interesting, recurring narrative in the QurʾÄn is the one which states that some people have been turned into apes because they broke the Sabbath. In the later Islamic interpretive traditions, and in particular today, this narrative has become a trope in anti-Semitic hate speech.92 But, I would argue, this is more due to spiteful interpretation of the text of the QurʾÄn than what it actually says and how it was understood by the first audience. Let us look at these passages:
QÂ 2:63â66: Then We made a covenant with you [pl.] and raised the mountain above you: âHold tight to the strength that We have given you, remember it [scil. the covenant], so that you might revere [God].â After this, you turned away and you would have ended up as losers were it not for the grace and mercy of God. You surely know those of you who broke the Sabbath! We said to them: âBecome disgraceful apes!â We made them an example to the present and later generations and a lesson to those who revere.
Q 7:163â166 (I omit verses 164â165): Ask [sing.] them about the town that was by the sea and whose inhabitants broke the Sabbath, when the fish would surface only on the day of the Sabbath, but on other days they would not surface. Thus, We tested them, because they had transgressed ⦠When they exceeded the bounds of what was forbidden to them, We said to them: âBecome disgraceful apes!â
Uri Rubin has argued that these narratives in the QurʾÄn, and in particular Q 7:163â166, appear to reflect the Jewish interpretive traditions concerning Numbers 11, a narrative about the Israelites complaining to Moses in the desert about, among other things, the lack of meat;93 the story ends with God sending quails from the sea, which the people eat, angering God, who strikes the people with a plague.94 In later Jewish Bible exegesis, this punishment is developed to include all sorts of physical ailments. Rubin concludes: âThe people who became apes (qirada) seem to represent the lustful quail eaters who, in Jewish Midrash (Leviticus Rabbah), are said to have been punished with various kinds of nasty bodily inflictions. In the Quran they are transformed into apes, a species that represents the loss of human dignity due to over-indulgence in food and drink.â95 This appears to me to be a very good interpretation of the background of the QurʾÄnic passages in question.
A few additional comments are in order from the point of view of social groups. Q 2:63â66 and 7:163â166 do not mention that turning people into apes was because they belonged to the categories of the Israelites or the People of the Book. It was a punishment because they broke their requirement to observe the Sabbath, which is, then, portrayed as something positive and commendable. The âpeople of the Sabbathâ (aṣḥÄb al-sabt), mentioned in Q 4:47 as having been cursed by God, appears to refer specifically to those who broke the Sabbath rather than observe(d) it. Moreover, the passages explicitly note that the punishment only targeted âsome of youâ (as in Q 2:63â66) or one town (Q 7:163â166). In their original context, it is difficult to understand these verses as being anti-Jewish or anti-People of the Book.
To sum up, the QurʾÄn contains many references to Jews (yahÅ«d or man hÄdÅ«), some of which (but not all) are negative.96 This is in contrast to the âConstitutionâ of Medina, which does not contain anything except positive statement on Jews. Today, we read the QurʾÄn as the scripture of a religion, Islam, and a group, Muslims. The anti-Jewish passages in the QurʾÄn (as in the New Testament) read as repugnant and, at times, incendiary. However, it has to be remembered that a different social context obtained in the 620sâ630s. Contemporary evidence, including QurʾÄnic passages, suggests that there were some (perhaps many) Jews in the prophet Muḥammadâs movement, which was not called Islam back then. How can this be reconciled with the fact that the QurʾÄn contains anti-Jewish passages? How were they heard and understood by the Jewish sub-group in the community of the believers?
The following point, though important (I think) and referred to in the previous chapter, I make with some hesitation:97 there was, among Jews, a centuries-old tradition of self-criticism of Israel. This was propounded in the Bible and the post-Biblical literature. This is, of course, nothing novel in itselfâthese passages are well known. But the existence of these passages is somewhat rarely, as far as I know, noted in QurʾÄnic studies. Consider, for instance the following verses from Isaiah, a book heavy in censure of Israel, in which God is cited as saying:
Israel does not know,my people do not understand.
Ah, sinful nation,people laden with iniquity,offspring who do evil,children who deal corruptly,who have forsaken the Lord,who have despised the Holy One of Israel,who are utterly estranged!
Why do you seek further beatings?Why do you continue to rebel?The whole head is sick,and the whole heart faint (Isaiah 1:3bâ5).
This is just to quote a few verses from that book; almost any prophetical book of the Hebrew Bible could be opened and similar scathing remarks, ascribed to God, about Israel could be found: they are legion. Israel has sinned, lapsed in law-observance, and committed crimes such as killing prophets, these verses state. Now, it must repent.
The same point has been made about anti-Jewish statements in the New Testament, for instance those found in Matthew. As Paula Fredriksen notes:
Matthew could appeal to a popular Jewish tradition that Israel had always rejected and persecuted Godâs prophets. Complaints frequently appear in scripture, and particularly in the classical prophets, that Israel obdurately resists the divine call issued through these prophets do to tshuvahâto turn from sin and return to Torah. Jews of the late Second Temple period inferred from such passages that their unrepentant people had resisted to the point of actually murdering Godâs messengers.98
Hence, the QurʾÄnic narratives and statements that are critical of Israel and Jews were, perhaps, not interpreted as attacking Jews categorically, since they were repeating ideas that were also current among Jews themselves. I make this point with some caution, however, since it is impossible to reconstruct in detail how the Jewish component in Muḥammadâs audience understood his revelations and since these QurʾÄnic passages were and are customarily invoked in medieval and modern Islamic anti-Semitic discourse.
Earlier in this book, I cited the four âbasic markersâ of Jewish social identity in antiquity and late antiquity, as construed by Martin S. Jaffee. These were: 1) belief in one God; 2) dietary and purity restrictions; 3) circumcision of male Jews; 4) observing the Sabbath.99 Does the QurʾÄn rebuff these four aspects or rather espouse them? On evidence, the latter is more likely to be the case.
The first one (monotheism) is the central message of the QurʾÄn. As for the second (food and purity), this will be discussed in more detail below, but it can already be noted that the QurʾÄn shares many of the same ideas as present in Jewish tradition, though the former gives the dietary and purity restrictions a certain gentile twist (itself a Jewish notion). As for the third (male circumcision), the QurʾÄn does not explicitly mention it at all.100 But, as is well known, later Muslims practiced male circumcision. As for the fourth (the Sabbath), the QurʾÄnic portrayal is multivocal: On the one hand, the Sabbath is said to have been âimposed on those who argue about him [scil. Abraham]â101 (Q 16:124), a somewhat pejorative statement; on the other, those who broke the Sabbath are cursed (e.g., Q 2:65, 4:47), which would indicate that the Sabbath should be observed, by Jews at least. Indeed, Q 4:154 notes that the Sabbath is one of the signs of the covenant that God made with Moses and Israel on Mount Sinai. All in all, the QurʾÄnic depiction of the Sabbath leans toward positive; in any case, there is no verse in the QurʾÄn which would say that observing the Sabbath is wrong or should be rejected.
As the âConstitutionâ makes clear Jews (qua Jews) were an important part of Muḥammadâs community. They did not have to âconvertâ to a new religion or recant Judaism. Nor is such a requirement present in the QurʾÄn. Moreover, the practices and beliefs present in the QurʾÄn do not, by and large, differ from those of Judaism but rather overlap with them. The basic markers of antique and late antique Judaism are not rejected but either passed over in silence or approved of. Though the QurʾÄn appears to be less welcoming to Jews than it is to Christians, it has to be remembered that the QurʾÄnic discourse is, in fact, rehashing many features and motifs of intra-Jewish criticism of Israel (and some Christian ones as well). This qualification is important to be borne in mind when contextualizing the QurʾÄnic communication and community. The QurʾÄnic notions that the Jews/Israel had sinned and transgressed were, perhaps, not as distasteful to the Medinan Jews as they sound today.
5 The Christians in the QurʾÄn
So far in this chapter, I have endeavored to argue that the Medinan characterizations of the People of the Book are more negative than the Meccan ones, though even the very late layers of the QurʾÄn accept some People of the Book as in-group members. As for the category Jews, most Medinan descriptions are pejorative, though the situation is not categorical. The case of the Christians (naá¹£ÄrÄ) in the QurʾÄn is interesting: they are depicted in a rather positive sense, though the QurʾÄn attacks Christological doctrines that were prevalent, one supposes, among the Christians of the Near East.
The QurʾÄnâs tone toward Christianity has been described in various ways in scholarly literature. Some have argued that since it vehemently and directly attacks the Christian dogmata of the incarnation and triune Godhead,102 it must be understood as attacking Christianity and the Christians categorically.103 However, a variety of views on God and Jesus existed among late antique Christians, and this is probably true as regards seventh-century CE Arabian Christians.104 Christians with low Christological beliefs (or little care for Christology to begin with) would have had few problems joining the group around the prophet Muḥammad, should they wish to do that. Moreover, the QurʾÄn, in fact, explicitly mentions some Christians as being believers, that is to say, members of the community of the believers. The characterization of the Christians is more positive than that of the Jews. As in the case of the Jews, nowhere does the QurʾÄn mention that, to be considered believers, Christians should recant Christianity as a religion or identity.
Since the verses discussing Christians almost always occur in connection with matters concerning the Jews, some of the relevant passages have already been adduced. However, one should still note verses 5:82â85, which contain a very positive description of the Christians and their religious authorities, that is, priests and monks (qissÄ«sÄ«n wa-ruhbÄn):105
You [prophet] will certainly find that the worst in enmity toward those who believe are the Jews and those who associate. And you will certainly find that the closest in affection toward those who believe are those who call themselves Christians. This is because there are priests and monks (qissÄ«sÄ«n wa-ruhbÄn) among them; they are not arrogant. When they hear what has been revealed to the messenger, you can see their eyes flowing with tears, because they recognize the truth in it. They say: âOur Lord, we believe! Count us among the witnesses. Why would we not believe in God and what has come to us of the truth. We hope that God will make us enter [Paradise] with the righteous people.â God will recompence them for their belief with gardens beneath which flow rivers, where they abide forever. That is the reward of the doers of good.
Moreover, Q 5:47 says that the âPeople of the Evangelionâ should judge by the Evangelion. Their revelation (as the QurʾÄn conceptualizes it) is valuable and the Christians should follow it in matters of law and praxis.
Since the QurʾÄnic depiction of Jesus is often understood to have signified a clear parting from Christianity,106 I will discuss and problematize this notion in some detail.107 I will concentrate on the question of what the QurʾÄnic Jesus might have meant for the audience of the revelations and its social makeup, not how the narratives of Mary and Jesus are construed and what earlier texts they might echoâtopics of utmost scholarly importance but somewhat irrelevant for my present purposes since I discuss the social identity of the burgeoning movement.
As is well known, according to the QurʾÄn, Jesus was a prophet and messenger who received revelation (Q 2:87, 19:30), but he was no God incarnate (Q 5:72).108 Moreover, the idea of God having a son or offspring is denied (Q 19:34â40, Q 112).109 However, in a sense, the QurʾÄnic Jesus is more than simply a prophet: he is, in fact, called the Christ/Messiah (al-masīḥ, Q 3:45, 4:157, 4:171â172, 5:17, 5:72, 5:75, 9:30â31)110 and, in contrast to most prophets of the QurʾÄn, he was a miracle-worker (Q 3:48â52, 5:110). Indeed, he is the prime performer of miracles in the QurʾÄn.111 One of his miracles, it can be interpreted, is his prediction that a new prophet, whose name is aḥmad, âmost venerated,â a clear nod at Muḥammad, will emerge (Q 61:6).112 Jesus is also called Godâs word (kalima, Q 3:45, 4:171)113 and was of virgin birth (Q 3:42â47, 19:16â34).114 Moreover, he represents a new Adam (Q 3:59).115 Interestingly, he does not render the Torah redundant but rather comes to confirm (muá¹£addiq) it (Q 5:46, 61:6). He is taken up to God (Q 3:55, 4:157â159),116 apparently to return during the eschatological era. Though this is not elucidated in detail in the QurʾÄn, passages such as Q 43:57â64 suggest that he has an important part to play in the last events.117 It would be, then, completely wrong to call the QurʾÄnic Jesus merely a prophet. He is a prophet, but also the Messiah and the most significant miracle worker of the QurʾÄn. To give in full some of the important passages concerning Jesus:
QÂ 5:72â75: They have disbelieved who say: âGod is the Messiah, son of Mary.â The Messiah himself has said: âIsraelites, worship God, your Lord and my Lord!â God has denied Paradise to those who associate, and their abode will be the hell-fire. The wrongdoers do not have a helper. They have disbelieved who say: âGod is the third of the three.â118 There is no god but one God. If the disbelievers among them do not cease to talk of such things, they will face a painful punishment. Why do they not turn to God, repenting, and ask for His forgiveness? God is merciful, compassionate. The Messiah, son of Mary, was merely a messenger; before him there have been other messengers. His mother was virtuous, and they both ate food.
Q 4:171: People of the Book, do not transgress your law (lÄ taghlÅ« fÄ« dÄ«nikum)! Do not say anything but the truth about God! The Messiah, son of Mary, was the messenger of God, and His word that He gave to Mary, and a spirit from Him. Believe in God and His messengers and do not say: âThree!â Desist; it is better for you. God is one God; He is above having a son. To Him belongs what is in the heavens and earth. He is the best trustee.
Note that neither of these passages claims that Christians hold such beliefs. Indeed, Q 5:73 talks of âdisbelievers among them,â suggesting that certainly not all Christians are beyond the pale. As far as I am aware, only one QurʾÄnic verse, 9:30 (discussed in the previous section), actually attributes to the Christians Christological beliefs that the QurʾÄn censures (in the case of Q 9:30, Jesusâ sonship). The possible reasons for this should be probed in some detail.
Let me start by looking at verses 5:110â120, which mention a narrative about Jesus, his disciples, and the table (mÄʾida).119 It is this narrative that gives the surah its name. It might be mentioned here that, in verses 5:116â118, Nicolai Sinai sees one of the examples in the QurʾÄnic communication of drawing a clear boundary with Christianity and of harsh criticism of Christian dogmata.120
Since food and dietary regulations are an important topic of surah 5, it is perhaps no coincidence that the surah ends with a narrative where Jesusâ disciples ask God to send121 them a table (mÄʾida)122 from heaven. Verse 110 ascribes to Jesus many superhuman characteristics: he was helped by the Holy Spirit, he resurrected the dead, and gave life to a clay bird; he healed the blind and the lepers; and God taught him multiple scriptures: the Torah and Evangelion, but also âthe Bookâ and âthe Wisdom.â What is more, QurʾÄn 5:111 adds that the disciples of Jesus were also given inspiration123 by God, and that they were obedient (muslimÅ«n, perhaps to be understood as law-observant).
The table narrative is recounted in verses 5:112â114, where the disciples first ask Jesus to ask God to send them âa table,â and Jesus does this, specifying that the table would provide for a âfeastâ (Ê¿Ä«dan) for âthe first and last of us.â At this point, God makes the miraculous table descend from heaven. This QurʾÄnic passage appears to echo the Christian last supper narratives124 and, as verse 5:109125 connects the passage to eschatology, the expectation of the eschatological second coming of Jesus might be implied at the end of surah 5. The phrase âthe first and last of usâ might also be understood in an eschatological context.
After the table narrative, the QurʾÄn once again comments on Jesusâ nature. In verses 5:116â117, God interrogates Jesus, asking if he is to be blamed for the idea that Jesus and Mary126 are considered gods in addition to God. Jesus denies this idea. Since such a trinitarian (or perhaps better, tritheist) dogma of God, Mary, and Jesus as the three persons of the Godhead was not a common one among late antique Christians, it is difficult to see these verses as generally denouncing Christianity or Christians.
Was the QurʾÄnic locution on Jesusâas a messenger-cum-prophet, as a man, though the Messiahâcompletely outside the late antique Christian discourse? Not really. After all, he is called a prophet, for instance, in some New Testament texts (Matthew 21:11, Acts 3:22).127 Naturally, high Christology is (though very rarely) present in the New Testament as well, such as in the pre-existing Christ/Logos, equated with God, of John 1. Paul is often adduced as an early example of high Christological thinking (in the sense: Jesus = God), but this appears to resort to special pleading.128 It is only with the later church councils (discussed in chapter 3 of the present study) that we encounter the canonization of such high Christological beliefs; before them, a variety of opinions and beliefs about Jesus existed on equal footing. A variety of Christological beliefs also existed naturally after Nicaea (in 325â¯CE), but low Christological ideas were now the butt of attack and, one supposes, became minority opinions. In the pseudo-Clementine Recognitions, we also encounter Jesus the prophet. Clemens is quoted as saying:
Then, however, a priest or a prophet, being anointed with the compounded ointment, putting fire to the altar of God, was held illustrious in all the world. But after Aaron, who was a priest, another is taken out of the waters. I do not speak of Moses, but of Him who, in the waters of baptism, was called by God His Son. For it is Jesus who has put out, by the grace of baptism, that fire which the priest kindled for sins; for, from the time when He appeared, the chrism has ceased, by which the priesthood or the prophetic or the kingly office was conferred.129
Earlier in the work, the figure of the true prophet is introduced. This appears to be a recurring figure, manifesting himself in many individuals, including but not limited to Jesus. The pseudo-Clementine Recognitions, then, appear to include the notion of the chain of the prophets:
He, therefore, whose aid is needed for the house filled with the darkness of ignorance and the smoke of vices, is He, we say, who is called the true Prophet, who alone can enlighten the souls of men, so that with their eyes they may plainly see the way of safety. For otherwise it is impossible to get knowledge of divine and eternal things, unless one learns of that true Prophet; because, as you yourself stated a little ago, the belief of things, and the opinions of causes, are estimated in proportion to the talents of their advocates: hence, also, one and the same cause is now thought just, now unjust; and what now seemed true, anon becomes false on the assertion of another. For this reason, the credit of religion and piety demanded the presence of the true Prophet, that He Himself might tell us respecting each particular, how the truth stands, and might teach us how we are to believe concerning each.130
Because of such prooftexts, it is not entirely true that Jesus as a/the prophet would have been anathema to all Christians in antiquity and late antiquity.
Heikki Räisänen approached the question of the QurʾÄnic Jesus in 1971 with a novel interpretation, comparing the Jesus of the QurʾÄn with the Jesus of the synoptic gospels.131 To mention a few details that Räisänen brings up, let me note the following: Like the QurʾÄn, Matthew and Luke espouse the idea of Jesusâ virginal birth without attributing the idea of divine incarnation to him. In Luke-Acts, Jesus is Godâs Christ and servant; his miracles are due to Godâs power, not his own. The QurʾÄn echoes such language. The Jesus depictions of the synoptics are, naturally, internally varied, but one can still note these affinities to some of their aspects in the QurʾÄnic discourse.132 Though not in any way identical, âthe Qurʾanic portrait of Jesus is not so remote from the NT [New Testament] as might seem to be the case at first glance.â133 As Räisänen notes, the differences between the Muslim and Christian Jesus understandings are not so much due to the QurʾÄn and the Bible as to their different interpretive traditions.134 The majority of Christian communities started, post-Nicaea, to espouse a high Christological doctrine. Early Islamic exegesis of the QurʾÄn, on the other hand, belittled the role of Jesus, insisting, for example, that his title in the QurʾÄn, al-masīḥ, is more or less empty of specific signification. However, it is difficult to accept that the earliest audience of the QurʾÄnic revelations, which included Jews and Christians, would have thought that the figure of âthe Messiahâ was meaningless.
As regards what follows, let me start with two premises arising from the QurʾÄn, the first being generally agreed upon, the second being something that I have argued for at some length in this book: 1) The QurʾÄnic âChristologyâ is of a relatively low type. 2) Some Christians accepted the QurʾÄnic revelations as authentic and joined Muḥammadâs movement. If both are true, how do we account for this? I think two answers are possible. In fact, they might both be true, reflecting the different circumstances in the lives and contexts of different Christians:
i) The first solution to the dilemma would be that the QurʾÄnic notions of Jesus were, in fact, similar or identical to what some Christian groups or individuals already endorsed in Mecca, Medina, and neighboring areas. This can be understood in two ways: a) in the context of group variation (what we might call âthe Jewish Christian thesisâ), or b) individual variation (Tannousâs âsimple believers thesisâ).
i a) The Jewish Christian thesis has been advocated by a number of writers135 and, it appears to me, is rather popular among scholars. However, it has had its critics too.136 I myself would be willing to accept the Jewish Christian presence as one of the factors in the background of the QurʾÄn, although, since tangible evidence is lacking, this is somewhat speculative. There are some indications that such groups might have indeed been present in the seventh-century Near East (John of Damascus, d. 749â¯CE, notes that the Elkesaites are âstill now occupying that part of Arabia above the Dead Seaâ),137 though there is no such evidence from Arabia; but given our lack of knowledge of varieties of Christian belief in Arabia more generally this is not surprising. Furthermore, the patriarch of the Church of the East, Mar Aba (d. 552), reportedly met a student of Christian theology who emphasized that he was both Jewish and Christian, a possible indication of the longevity of such groups in the Near East.138 Patricia Crone has argued that the QurʾÄn proves the existence of such a group or groups in the QurʾÄnic milieu: âAll in all, a full seven doctrines,139 several of them central to the QurʾÄn, point to the presence of Jewish Christians in the Messengerâs locality.â140 For example, the QurʾÄn notes that Jesus does not annul the Torah but rather confirms it (Q 5:46, 61:6), which could point to the possibility that the Christians around the prophet considered Torah-obedience important.
There were, as noted above, late antique Christians whose view on Jesus was similar to the QurʾÄnic one. Whether or not they existed in sixth-seventh century CE Arabia is up for debate (since no palpable evidence is available). It should be remembered that non-trinitarian Christian groups, such as Bogomils and Catharists, popped up in medieval Europe. After Nicaea and Chalcedon, trinitarian and incarnationist Christianity was the mainstream;141 but perhaps other options existed in the Near East and, more specifically, Arabia too. As mentioned in chapter 2, the inscriptions commissioned by Abraha, the Ethiopian king of Yemen in the mid-sixth century, have been interpreted by Carlos Segovia as putting forward low Christological formulae.142 Two of Abrahaâs surviving inscriptions143 do not mention the trinity, nor do they mention Jesusâ sonship but refer to him, instead, as Godâs messiah (ms¹ḥ-hw). Segovia suggests that Abraha came with these formulae to appease his subject people, who were majority Jewish.
I think it would be hasty to dismiss the group variation thesis altogether. The fact of diversity, then as now, signifies diversity as regards individuals but also groups that the individuals form. We do not necessarily have to call these hypothetical low Christology groups âJewish Christians,â or give them a genealogy to such a group from earlier centuries, such as Ebionites. However, the QurʾÄnâs relationship (discussed at more length below) with the Didascalia and the pseudo-Clementine Homilies, which manifest, in some passages, low Christology (Jesus as a prophet) and emphasize purity regulations, is too unmistakable to pass over.144 The obvious conclusion is that there were a group or groups of Arabian Christians who espoused and transmitted (perhaps orally) teachings that resembled the contents of these texts. Otherwise, it is difficult to account for the aspects of the gentile law in the QurʾÄn, which show striking similarities with the Didascalia and the pseudo-Clementine Homilies.
i b) Though scholars of late antiquity sometimes forget that diversity of beliefs (even as regards the central dogmata) and practices permeated the vernacular religion of the Christians and other communities,145 this has recently been emphasized by Jack Tannous in his âsimple believers thesis.â According to him, we are misled if we only take into account the views of the bishops and other elites. It is naturally true that, by the seventh century CE (and, actually, even some two centuries earlier), all Christian churches that we have any evidence of held trinitarian and incarnationist beliefs (which the QurʾÄn refutes)âin fact, they advocated them as the very essence of the Christian faith. But does this signify that all Christians actually considered them central to how they lived, acted, and worshipped as Christians? I think not. Tannous has argued for this comprehensively in his well-documented book. As he notes: âjust as one can believe in gravity without understanding the finer points of Einsteinâs Theory of General Relativity, or indeed, without ever having heard of Einstein; so, too, one could believe in Jesus without having a coherent view of the Incarnation or a strong opinion on Chalcedon (or any view at all on these matters).â146 There is, in fact, much evidence that there was variation among all the denominations of the late antique and early medieval Near East, in particular among the laity but sometimes clergy as well. The variation among Christians included, for instance, divergent Christological views, interest in divination, or acceptance of polygyny.147 Tannous notes that, to understand QurʾÄnic Christological statements, there is no need to refer to hypothetical Jewish Christian groups, since diversity of beliefs was a fact even within the churches that deemed themselves orthodox: there is no need to speculate about this or that fringe group that might have survived on the fringes of the Roman empire.148 He notes:
when the QurʾÄn seems to suggest that Christians understood Mary to be part of the Trinity (5:116), we can, as scholars have done, invoke the possible existence of an exotic heretical group like the Collyridians in western Arabia to explain such a curious claim. But in this instance, and in other places where the QurʾÄn speaks of Christianity in unfamiliar ways, rather than looking for fourthâor fifthâcentury groups which held low Christologies, exalted views of Mary, or some other view not typical of the Christian communities most familiar to us now, or seeking to find individual passages in Syriac texts written by theological elites in northern Mesopotamia or Greek writers somewhere in the Mediterranean world which seem to bear resemblance to this or that idea put forth in the QurʾÄn, a more fruitful way of understanding the image of Christianity presented therein is to see it as a reflection of and reaction to Christianity as it existed on the ground in the seventh-century ḤijÄzâor wherever it is that one wants to argue is the QurʾÄnâs original context.149
However, one wonders why the group aspect should be recanted altogether. Individuals have a habit and aptitude to affiliate with those whom they view as likeminded. It is certainly true that there was much individual variation within, say, the (Miaphysite) Syriac Orthodox church as regards doctrinal matters and praxes.150 But did they only exist as individuals or did some members of the church meet with others that agreed with their views and practices, perhaps forming prayer or study circles or other social groups where they interacted? The latter is likely. This, then, takes us into the sphere of group variation: sub-groups, as it were, inside a larger collective. Were there, moreover, smaller or larger Christian groups that operated outside the hegemonic churches of the Near East? Also likely. Moreover, though I very much sympathize with Tannousâs argument, it has to be pointed out that, like the group variation thesis, a limited amount of evidence exists as regards the individual variation thesis. They are, then, both hypotheses, though credible ones at that.
ii) The second solution to the dilemma would be to state that though the QurʾÄnic âChristologyâ was (perhaps much) lower than what the west Arabian Christians upheld, they joined the believersâ movement nonetheless, perhaps lowering their Christ beliefs, perhaps simply ignoring the discrepancy with the QurʾÄnic communication on Jesus and what they earlier believed in (or at least had heard in sermons). This is not impossible. Many Christians might have changed their view on Christ, while others might have simply overlooked what the QurʾÄn said on him. Naturally, one should also question the extent to which all the QurʾÄnic pericopes were known among the believers around Muḥammad since the revelatory corpus was still being produced and not yet collected in a book.151
Modern religious-studies theory on conversion includes the idea that change in religious beliefs and practices happens throughout oneâs life, regardless of whether one thinks of this in connection with the concept âconversionâ or not.152 Some of these developments are sudden, some more gradual: there is much individual variation in how people experience and undergo religious change or conversion.153 This solution is in line with Tannousâs âsimple believers thesis,â noted above. The religious views and praxes of Christian and other believers were (and are) in a constant state of flux, though they might self-identify in the same way throughout their lives. One could have learned by heart and believe in the standard Christological formulae of oneâs church and community before coming into contact with a new religious movement (in this instance, Muḥammadâs) that one joins. In reaction, one could start to emphasize (or not) new facets in the realm of religious dogmata and beliefs.
A thought experiment now arises regarding those Christians who held high Christological beliefs (the majority, one assumes, in the Near East on the eve of Islam, and probably in Arabia too), accepting the incarnation and triune Godhead:154 would these Christians, if they joined the prophet Muḥammadâs movement, have felt that they converted from Christianity to another religion? Would they have felt that the QurʾÄnic discourse on Jesus would be so opposed to what they knew from their scripture, the interpretive tradition, and general Christian discourse that they did not consider themselves Christians anymore, but something else? Though the QurʾÄnic evidence can be read in divergent ways, I would suggest that the answer is no. If my reading of the QurʾÄnic social categorizations is correct and the Christians of Muḥammadâs movement did not have to recant their earlier identity, then it follows that they considered themselves no less Christians than, say, Ebionites did.155 There is simply no QurʾÄnic evidence to suggest that conversionâin the sense of recanting oneâs previous religious affiliation in lieu of a new oneâwas required for or expected from the Jews or Christians joining the believer group. These people would have, then, identified as both Muḥammadâs followers and Jews/Christians. For some, this might have meant that they saw themselves as having a dual or hybrid identity in this regard.156 Other Muḥammad-believing Jews or Muḥammad-believing Christians did not necessarily think of themselves as being doubly-affiliated: they self-identified simply as Jews or Christians. Both options are possible and might indeed have been operative in the mind and discourse of a single individual, with a variation and fluctuation throughout her life.157
I am naturally not suggesting that all or the majority of the west Arabian Christians accepted the QurʾÄnic revelations and joined Muḥammadâs movement. But the QurʾÄnic evidence certainly suggests that some did, regardless of the Christological polemics present in the QurʾÄnâs message. One could even suggest that it was more difficult for the Jews to accept the QurʾÄnic Jesus than for the Christians. But join the movement the Jews did, as the QurʾÄnic evidence and the âConstitutionâ suggest.158 It must be remembered that Jesus is more rarely mentioned than, for instance, Moses or other patriarchs. Hence, it appears that the relatively few occurrences of Jesus the Messiah in the QurʾÄnic revelations did not deter some Jews from joining the community of the believers.159
A further question suggests itself: was the idea that prophecy continued and was present in Muḥammad so problematic that Christians would have been repelled from following him? For many, perhaps.160 For some, probably not. After John and Jesus, a number of Christians actually claimed the mantle of prophecy and, in some cases, were successful in attracting followers.161 Most famous were Montanus, Prisca, and Maximilla (of the late second century Montanist movement), and Mani (d. 270s). The latter actually never called himself a âprophetâ; rather, he was âthe apostle of Jesus.â However, his elite followers, the electii, were known as prophets.162 The Montanist movement appealed not only to the laity but also some of the clergy: the famous church father, Tertullian, joined it.163 The group was apparently still alive in the eighth century CE Byzantine empire.164
It is true that, after these figures, no Christian prophet who gained a significant group of followers is attested in the late antique Near East, though one supposes that minor Christian prophets popped up sporadically (as they do nowadays). The Christian prophets could always refer to Biblical prooftexts. In Matthew 23:34, Jesus is cited as saying that he is âsending you prophets and sages and teachersâ; clearly prophecy is not something that has come to an end with Jesus. Moreover, Paul exalts ecstatic worship and prophecy, in which every believer can take part, in 1â¯Cor 14:26â31:
What should be done then, my friends? When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Let all things be done for building up. If anyone speaks in a tongue, let there be only two or at most three, and each in turn; and let one interpret. But if there is no one to interpret, let them be silent in church and speak to themselves and to God. Let two or three prophets speak, and let the others weigh what is said. If a revelation is made to someone else sitting nearby, let the first person be silent. For you can all prophesy one by one, so that all may learn and all be encouraged.
In their scripture and lived tradition, Christians had earlier examples of prophecy continuing after Jesus. One should also note that, as discussed here and in the previous chapter, there is considerable QurʾÄnic evidence stating that Christians (and Jews) gladly acknowledged and accepted Muḥammadâs revelations. This runs counter to the notion that unending prophecy was, in itself, distasteful to Arabian Christians.
Related to this discussion, I should note that modern scholars sometimes make much of the fact that the QurʾÄn speaks of al-InjÄ«l, âEvangelionâ or âGospel,â in the singular.165 Hence, so the argument goes, the QurʾÄnic al-InjÄ«l cannot be taken as a reference to the Gospels (in plural) that the Christians considered sacred. Moreover, the argument sometimes continues, the QurʾÄnic embrace of the earlier scripture is mostly but lip service and cannot have meant much to the Jews and Christians in the context of the audience of the QurʾÄn. But is this so? I very much doubt it. As regards al-InjÄ«l, it is and has been naturally common for Christians to speak of âthe Gospelâ in the singular when referring to the good news about Jesus, or the narrative(s) about him, or the Christian teaching more generally.166 What is more, late antique Christians produced a number of gospel harmonies, which rendered the story presented in the four Gospels (and their interpretive tradition) into one book. The most important of these was Tatianâs Diatessaron (ca. 160â175), which was written in Syriac or Greek and which Tatian himself apparently called, simply, âthe Gospel.â167 Many manuscripts of the Syriac text as well as translations of it into other languages are extant which are testimony to the popularity of this âGospelâ in late antiquity.168 Though we do not naturally have to understand that al-InjÄ«l, in the QurʾÄn, refers to the Diatessaronâthings are not so simpleâthe case of Tatianâs work serves as an example that there would in all likelihood be nothing surprising or distasteful to Christians to hear the QurʾÄn talk about the Gospel in the singular. I suggest that it is highly unlikely that an Arabian Christian, upon hearing the QurʾÄnic revelations referred to al-InjÄ«l (always in a positive sense, it should be underscored), would have been put off by the singular noun. Rather, she would in all likelihood have felt her scripture honored and validated. An average late antique Christian would not, in any case, have ever read the Bible himself:169 Did he know or care how many Gospels there were within or without the canon (a concept that warrants problematization in itself)? It is doubtful.
The âConstitutionâ of Medina can be used as extra-QurʾÄnic evidence for the position and categorization of the Medinan Jews in the believersâ movement, but there is no similar text depicting the Medinan Christians. Nevertheless, in this connection it is warranted to mention a poem attributed to al-AÊ¿shÄ, who was possibly Christian, as discussed in chapter 3. The poem is written in the praise of the prophet Muḥammad and mentions the city of Yathrib (Medina).170 In the poem, Muḥammad is called âthe prophet of God (al-ilÄh)â and is characterized, among other things, as having âgiven advice and called [people] to witnessâ (awá¹£Ä wa-ashhada).171 The poem does not contain any indication that al-AÊ¿shÄ would have considered Muḥammad as having proclaimed a new religion called Islam. It hence squares with my analysis of the QurʾÄnic evidence presented in this book, according to which some Jews and Christians joined the group without a need for conversion.
However, further research is needed on this particular poem and its possible authenticity as well as al-AÊ¿shÄâs corpus more generally. According to Shahîd, the last six verses of the poem are spurious, because they in Shahîdâs opinion mention Islamic dogmata and praxes in a suspicious way, but otherwise the poem should be treated as an authentic composition of al-AÊ¿shÄ: for example, the toponyms (á¹¢arkhad, Yathrib rather than al-MadÄ«na) mentioned in the poem appear to ascertain its genuine nature.172 If so, and if al-AÊ¿shÄ was in fact Christian, then we would have an extra-QurʾÄnic piece of evidence for Christian praise of Muḥammad as a prophet.
In fact, I would be willing to go so far as to accept, at least tentatively, the last six lines of the poem as authentic too. Shahîd is correct in stating that they contain Islamic notions, but they are actually markedly QurʾÄnic: there are no post-QurʾÄnic anachronisms in the poem as far as I can see. Similar arguments have been used to ascribe authenticity to the âConstitution,â and they should be given full weight in this case, too.
I give in what follows my translation of the last six lines of the poem and then discuss their meaning and importance. In this part, al-AÊ¿shÄ addresses the hearer of the poem as if he173 were a potential or actual believer group member:
Be careful not to eat carrion (al-maytÄt),and not to use an iron arrow to slit a vein [of an animal and drink its blood or sacrifice the blood on a cult stone] (li-tafá¹£ada);
and not to devote yourself to the [deity] of the erected cult stone (dhÄ al-nuá¹£ub al-manṣūb),and not to worship the idols (al-awthÄn)ârather, worship God!
Pray during the evening time and the morning (ḥīn al-Ê¿ashiyyÄt wa-l-á¸uḥÄ),do not praise Satanârather, praise God!
Do not turn away a poor beggaron his heels nor a shackled prisoner.
Do not scoff at a harm that brings a loss (baʾs dhÄ« á¸arÄra),do not think that man has an ever-lasting day (yawman mukhalladan).
Do not approach a female neighbor (jÄra); indeed, her secret (sirrahÄ)is forbidden to you. Either marry or become celibate!174
In this part (or other parts) of the poem, there is no mention of a reified Islam or Muḥammad as having formed a distinct, or new, religion. It aligns well with my reading of the social categories in the QurʾÄnic evidence and the âConstitutionâ of Medina. Moreover, pace Shahîd, the last six verses could well be authentic, since they adduce rather the nascent QurʾÄnic legislation than the later Islamic and much more detailed regulations and decrees. The dietary and purity notions present in the poem (no carrion, no blood, no cult stones), is similar to Q 5:3, for example, considered in the next section. Interestingly, too, the poem appears to refer to two daily prayers (ḥīn al-Ê¿ashiyyÄt wa-l-á¸uḥÄ). This matches some QurʾÄnic evidence (Q 6:52, 11:114, 18:28, 24:58), which indicates that the community of the believers prayed, at some point of its history, two times a day, in addition to being recommended to observe nocturnal vigils. Taking all this into consideration, the poem reads in my opinion as a possible contemporary witness to a Christian poetâs ideas about Muḥammad and the message he was proclaiming.
6 Inna al-dÄ«n Ê¿inda AllÄh al-islÄm
Verses 3:19, 3:85, and 5:3 are often cited as evidence for the idea that, in the Medinan period, the QurʾÄn already names the religion of the in-group as âIslamâ and, furthermore, this religion is characterized as the best and perhaps the only one.175 However, such an understanding simply reflects conventional Islamic readings of them. These verses become, in classical Islamic exegesis, significant prooftexts for the notion of Islamic superiority and hegemony, as insightfully discussed by Munâim Sirry.176 One of them, Q 5:3, is even known in later tradition as the âverse of the perfection of religionâ (Äyat ikmÄl al-dÄ«n) and, according to the majority of interpretations, as being revealed during the farewell pilgrimage of the prophet.
I suggest another reading, however, translating, as in the Meccan kerygma, al-islÄm consistently as âobedienceâ (to God, the prophet, and the law).177 In the previous chapter, it was noted that the word (al-)dÄ«n often refers to âjudgmentâ (in particular, âthe last judgmentâ) but, sometimes too, to âlaw,â as in Q 12:76, where dÄ«n al-malik signifies âthe kingâs law.â It is the meaning âlawâ (broadly understood) that, according to my interpretation, becomes common in the Medinan stratum. However, the signification â(the last) judgmentâ is still operative. This is the case, for instance, in Q 3:24, where the context indicates this to be the intended meaning. In this verse, the disbelievers claim: ââ¯âthe (hell-)fire will only touch us for a certain number of days.â Their concoctions have misled them regarding their judgment! (wa-gharrahum fÄ« dÄ«nihim mÄ kÄnÅ« yaftarÅ«n).â Here, the QurʾÄn notes that the judgment that the disbelievers will receive (dÄ«nihim) on the last day is differentânamely, eternalâthan what they falsely think. Relatedly, Q 4:146 mentions the repentant among the munÄfiqÅ«n, âhypocrites,â namely those who hold fast to God and ârelinquish the [matter of] their judgment to Godâ (akhlaṣū dÄ«nahum lillÄh).
When considering the Medinan occurrences of dÄ«n in the sense of âlaw,â let us begin with verse 5:3. The wider context of the beginning of Q 5 is dietary and purity regulations (which are also addressed in verse 5:3). Here is my rendering of the verse, which is very long indeed (I leave the key words untranslated):
You are forbidden to consume carrion, blood, pork, anything dedicated to other than God, any [animal] strangled, hit or fallen fatally, gored, eaten by wild animalsâunless you have slaughtered it [properly]âor anything sacrificed on idol stones (al-nuá¹£ub). [Moreover, you are forbidden] to draw divining arrows (al-azlÄm)âthat is transgression. Today, those who reject (kafarÅ« min) your dÄ«n have lost hope. Do not fear them, fear Me. Today I have perfected (akmaltu) your dÄ«n for you, completed (atmamtu) My blessing upon you, and favored (raá¸Ä«tu) al-islÄm dÄ«nan for you.178 But if anyone is forced [to eat illicit food] because of hunger, not intending to sin, God is forgiving and merciful.
This verse and other similar ones have been in the forefront in Islamic exegesis and theology as prooftexts for the conventional exclusivist interpretation of other religions.179 However, it is hard to see al-islÄm signifying a reified and distinct religion, Islam, in QurʾÄnic Arabic, here or elsewhere. The word, after all, simply means âsubmissionâ or âobedienceâ to God and the law, as has been surveyed in the previous chapter.180 Nor should we translate dÄ«n as âreligionâ here,181 but go with the usual QurʾÄnic meaning of âlawâ or âjudgment.â182 Indeed, the rest of verse 5:3, as well as the neighboring verses, have to do with dietary and other regulations.183 On the basis of the context, translating dÄ«n here with anything other than âlaw,â and al-islÄm as âsubmissionâ or âobedienceâ would be strained. Thus, I suggest that the most straightforward translation for this passage would be: âToday I have perfected your law for you, completed My blessing upon you, and favored for you obedience in/as regards law.â In fact, as the next section will elucidate, the law mentioned in 5:3 is the gentile purity lawâa concept familiar to Jews and Christians of the late ancient Near East.184
It should be noted that, in QurʾÄnic and later Arabic, the expression âsubmit to somethingâ is aslama li-, that is to say, it requires the preposition li- (e.g., Q: 3:83). However, in Q 5:3, as in Q 3:85, considered next, I would suggest that the accusative dÄ«nan is a tamyÄ«z accusative, which determines and limits the predicate. In such Arabic expressions, the accusative noun should be translated into English as âin/with/as regards (noun).â On this usage, Wright, for example, adduces the following sentences in his grammar, which are very similar in structure to the expression found in Q 5:3, raá¸Ä«tu lakum al-islÄma dÄ«nan (I give the full vocalization in what follows):
rafaÊ¿tu l-shaykha qadran, âI raised the chief in dignityâ (or, as one could also translate, âas regards dignityâ)gharastu l-ará¸a shajaran, âI planted the land with treesâallÄhu Ê¿aáºÄ«mun qudratan, âGod is great in mightâ (or: âas regards mightâ)huwa ḥÄtimun jÅ«dan, âhe is [like] a ḤÄtim in generosityâ (or: âas regards generosityâ)185
Note that, in these sentences, the tamyÄ«z noun is a maá¹£dar (verbal noun) or non-participle nounâjust like dÄ«nan. What I am arguing here is that, as in the examples cited above, in Q 5:3 dÄ«nan functions as a determination or specification for the object of the clause, al-islÄm, âobedience,â answering the question, âas regards what, or in what, is obedience being favored for you (raá¸Ä«tu lakum)?â186 Hence, the expression raá¸Ä«tu lakum al-islÄm dÄ«nan can be rendered into English as âI have favored for you obedience in/as regards law.â This grammatical interpretation also explains why dÄ«nan is indefinite, since tamyÄ«z accusatives are, according to the general rule, indefinite.
Similar tamyÄ«z accusatives can be found elsewhere in the QurʾÄn. For example, Ê¿adlu dhÄlika á¹£iyÄman, âthe same equivalent in fastingâ (Q 5:95); ishtaÊ¿ala l-raʾsu shayban, âthe head has become glowing with grey hairâ (Q 19:4); or fajjarnÄ l-ará¸a Ê¿uyÅ«nan, âWe have caused the earth to burst with springsâ (Q 54:12). As for verse 11:7, it states that God has created the universe âto test which one of you is best as regards deedsâ (li-yabluwakum ayyukum aḥsanu Ê¿amalan). In these expressions, the nouns á¹£iyÄman, shayban, Ê¿uyÅ«nan, and Ê¿amalan modify the predicate and, naturally, are in the accusative because of their role as tamyÄ«z nouns, not because they serve as an object of the verb or verbal noun. I would suggest that is the case with the phrase raá¸Ä«tu lakum al-islÄm dÄ«nan of Q 5:3, too.
In this connection, it is pertinent to remark that Nicolai Sinai has put forward the interpretation that verse 5:3 consists of two distinct utterances.187 According to him, the middle of the verse is a later addition. Understood this way, we would originally have had the locution a), which was then glossed with b):
-
You are forbidden to consume carrion, blood, pork, anything dedicated to other than God. But if anyone is forced [to eat illicit food] because of hunger, not intending to sin, God is forgiving and merciful.
-
[Forbidden is] any [animal] strangled, hit or fallen fatally, gored, eaten by wild animalsâunless you have slaughtered it [properly]âor anything sacrificed on idol stones (al-nuá¹£ub). [Moreover, you are forbidden] to draw divining arrows (al-azlÄm)âthat is transgression. Today, those who reject (kafarÅ« min) your dÄ«n have lost hope. Do not fear them, fear Me. Today I have perfected (akmaltu) your dÄ«n for you, completed (atmamtu) My blessing upon you, and favored (raá¸Ä«tu) al-islÄm dÄ«nan for you.
Sinaiâs suggestion is based on the fact that a) corresponds to Q 2:173. The middle part of the verse, that is b), would have been a later interpolation glossing and commenting on a). However, in contrast to my interpretation, Sinai translates the phrase under consideration as âtoday I have perfected your religion for you,â188 which he suggests could be a post-Muḥammadan insertion because of its meaning. However, as I argue in this section, this is unlikely to have been the significance as understood by the earliest audience of the QurʾÄn. In any case, Sinaiâs suggestion of the redacted nature of Q 5:3 is interesting and worth pondering. It should be noted in this connection that the famous QurʾÄnic manuscript of Bibliothèque nationale de France, Arabe 328(a), actually breaks down Q 5:3 in to two verses, with an âadditionalâ verse-ending marked after the word al-azlÄm,189 which is notable but does not (and naturally need not) correspond with the division suggested by Sinai.
In line with my interpretation of the meaning of Q 5:3, I would translate 3:85 (wa-man yanbaghi ghayra l-islÄm dÄ«nan fa-lan yuqbala minhu wa-huwa fÄ« l-Äkhira mina l-khÄsirÄ«n) as: âWhoever desires non-obedience (ghayra l-islÄm) in law (dÄ«nan)âit will not be accepted from them, and they will be among the losers in the hereafter.â190 In this verse, as in 5:3, the word dÄ«nan in yanbaghi ghayra l-islÄm dÄ«nan functions as a tamyÄ«z noun that specifies the predicate. It indicates with respect to what in particular one is pursuing ghayra l-islÄm, non-obedience. Note that here the concept of dÄ«n, law, and submission to it, is directly connected to the idea of paradisal reward (or more precisely the lack of it). Q 3:85 should be read in conjunction with verse 3:83, which states: âDo they pursue anything other than the law of God (dÄ«n AllÄh)? Everyone in heaven and earth submits to Him (aslama lahu), willingly or not; they will all be returned to Him.â Verses 3:83 and 3:85 are not talking about âa religionâ called âIslam,â but rather about submission to God and the law. Verse 2:132, mentioned in the previous chapter, notes that Abraham, as well as Jacob, advised their children to follow the millat ibrÄhÄ«m, Abrahamâs promise of faithfulness toward God, adding: âGod has chosen for you the law (al-dÄ«n); do not die except as obedient [to God and the law] (muslimÅ«n).â
The expression inna al-dÄ«n Ê¿inda allÄh al-islÄm in (the equally famous) verse 3:19 should be considered in this connection. This is usually understood to mean âthe religion of God is Islam,â but, as I have argued in this study, it does not appear warranted to understand the QurʾÄnic expression al-islÄm as meaning Islam, with a capital letter; nor does al-dÄ«n refer to âreligionâ as much as âjudgment/law.â191 First, we must consider which noun the expression Ê¿inda allÄh, âwith/in the presence/sight of God,â specifies: is it al-dÄ«n or al-islÄm? If the latter, inna al-dÄ«n Ê¿inda allÄh al-islÄm could be understood to mean: âthe judgment/law is submission in the presence of God.â However, this is not preferable, since, elsewhere in the QurʾÄn, Ê¿inda allÄh follows, rather than precedes, the noun that it specifies (e.g., Q 2:89, 2:94, 2:103, 6:109). Hence, as is indeed usually understood, Ê¿inda allÄh is connected to al-dÄ«n, with al-islÄm being the predicative of the clause: âal-dÄ«n Ê¿inda allÄh is al-islÄm.â But things are not so simple. As in the example adduced above regarding tamyÄ«z, that is, huwa ḥÄtimun jÅ«dan, âhe is [like] a ḤÄtim in generosity,â it is possible that, in an Arabic nominal sentence, the meaning should be understood as âis like,â âis tantamount to,â or âsignifies,â rather than simply âis.â192 This, I suggest, would fit the expression inna al-dÄ«n Ê¿inda allÄh al-islÄm in Q 3:19. The predicative al-islÄm explains what the âjudgment/law with/in the presence/sight of God (al-dÄ«n Ê¿inda allÄh)â is, is like, or signifies. It is âsubmission,â in the sense that it (âjudgment/lawâ) must be submitted to.
Another example of the word al-islÄm, in the definite form and from the Medinan period, occurs in Q 61:7, which reads: âWho is more wrong (aáºlam) than those who invent lies about God while being summoned to obedience (yudÊ¿Ä Ê¿alÄ al-islÄm)? God does not guide the wrongdoers (al-áºÄlimÄ«n).â The meaning of âobedienceâ seems rather straightforward in the context of this sÅ«ra, which, incidentally, attacks (some?) believers for saying one thing while doing another (Q 61:2â3). When considering the QurʾÄnic polemics on the People of the Book, it should be remembered that the QurʾÄn is sometimes critical of the category âthe believersâ too.
It is significant, I should add here, that the plural of the word dÄ«n never appears in the QurʾÄn, though it exists in later stages of Arabic (adyÄn).193 This, too, points to the QurʾÄnic dÄ«n being something other than a religion, at least in the countable sense. In this connection, verse 22:78, mentioning the key words al-dÄ«n, milla, and al-muslimÄ«n, is also of importance. I would render it as follows:
Strive in Godâs way as He deserves. He has chosen you [pl.] and has not made the law (al-dÄ«n) burdensome to you [pl.], because of the milla194 of your [pl.] father Abraham. He has called you obedient (al-muslimÄ«n) before and in this [pericope]. May the messenger be a witness over you [pl.] and may you [pl.] be witnesses over [all] the people. Uphold the prayer, give alms, and hold fast to God. He is your guardianâwhat an excellent guardian and helper!
Here, as in the verses treated above, it is natural to translate al-dÄ«n as âthe law,â and al-muslimÄ«n, the obedient, refers to the community of the believers who obey God, the messenger, and the law. Later in the verse, the key precepts of the law are mentionedâprayer, alms, and piety. Once again, Abraham is adduced as a prototypical figure who also supplies a lofty pedigree to the believers, whatever their background. What does the word âbeforeâ in âHe has called you obedient (al-muslimÄ«n) before and in this [pericope]â refer to? I would suggest that it harks back to verse 2:128 (supposing that it is earlier than Q 22:78), where Abraham and Ishmael pray God to make them obedient (muslimayn) to God, and, furthermore, to raise from their offspring (dhurriyyatinÄ) an âobedient nationâ (umma muslima). This could be the earlier pericope mentioned in Q 22:78 where the current community of the believers is characterized as âthe obedient.â Moreover, this might be the âpromiseâ (milla) given to Abraham: that a new, righteous, obedient nation following a gentile prophet will emerge. Through Abrahamâs promise and the new revelation given to Muḥammad, the gentiles will reach purity and, through purity, salvation.
7 Gentile Purity and Dietary Regulations
If the arguments of this book are acceptedâthat the QurʾÄnic word dÄ«n should be translated as âlaw,â while milla might be rendered âfaithfulnessâ or âpromiseââwhat does it mean for those verses in the QurʾÄn that state that the dÄ«n and milla are to be followed ḥanÄ«fan, gentile-ly?195 More specifically: what is the gentile way of following the law? Though this might sound surprising, even bizarre, at first blush, it is exactly this detail that provides clinching evidence for my case.
Holger Zellentin has studied the issue of the QurʾÄnâs legal discourse and its connections with Jewish and Christian literature comprehensively; the issue was surveyed in chapter 3 of this book.196 He points out that the QurʾÄnic dietary and purity regulations resemble what some Jewish and Christian texts of antiquity and late antiquity put forward as regards the gentiles. In Christian literature, we should start with the so-called Apostolic decree in Acts, which forbids i) food offered to idols (and perhaps idolatry more generally); ii) sexual âdepravityâ; iii) meat coming from animals that are not properly slaughtered (âwhatever has been strangledâ); and iv) blood. It is important to note that the category of âstrangledâ was understood more broadly to mean meat that was improperly slaughtered.197 âThings strangledâ signified, to many Christians, all sorts of carrion.
The QurʾÄn, then, follows what the Christians and Jews198 of the early era and late antiquity viewed as the gentile purity and dietary regulations. Important passages in the QurʾÄnic communication on dietary regulation are 2:173, 5:1â5, 6:145â146, and 16:115.199 The QurʾÄn forbids carrion, pork, blood, and idol meat, and is skeptical of wine.200 The injunction to avoid pork, in particular when compared with QurʾÄn 5:5 (âthe food of the People of the Book is lawful for you as your food is lawful for themâ), suggests to me that, in addition to Jews, some Arabian Christians eschewed pork.201 Importantly for the arguments of this book, it also suggests that the believers did not distinguish them from the People of the Book on the basis of dietary praxes (an important and common way of drawing a group boundary in late antiquity).202
Though the QurʾÄnic communication, I argue, suggests that there were actually many shared notions and norms between the gentiles and the People of the Book, it should be noted that, even in the case of disagreements, the QurʾÄn does not necessarily see them as an insurmountable problem. Q 5:43â50 advises, in a somewhat winding prose, that Jews and Christians should follow their own laws. Of importance is, in particular, Q 5:48, which notes: âWe have assigned a law (shirÊ¿atan) and a path (minhÄjan) to each of you [pl.].â Above in this chapter, it was noted, moreover, that the âConstitutionâ proclaims: âThe Jews have their law (dÄ«nuhum), and the [gentile] believers theirs.â
One interesting fact in the QurʾÄnic purity regulations is the juxtaposition of a) food sacrificed to idols and b) divining arrows (al-azlÄm). As mentioned in, for example, Q 5:3, cited above, prohibited is âanything sacrificed on idol stones (al-nuá¹£ub). [Moreover, you are forbidden] to draw divining arrows (al-azlÄm)âthat is transgression.â Moreover, these are connected to wine (al-khamr) and al-maysir, often translated as âgambling,â for instance, in Q 2:219 and 5:90â91.203 In chapter 3, it was pointed out that two late antique Christian texts, the Didascalia and the pseudo-Clementine Homilies, censure wine because it might have been used in libations to idols or false deities or because drinking wine and becoming intoxicated might lead to participating in eating idol meat or general depravity. The pseudo-Clementine Homilies 8:19 connected this to the demons who lead humankind astray (or, more specifically, those people who already have decided to obey the demons). This devilish connection is also present in Q 5:90, which notes: âYou who believe: Wine, al-maysir, idol stones (al-aná¹£Äb), and divining arrows (al-azlÄm) are filth, Satanâs doing (rijsun min Ê¿amali l-shayá¹Än)! Eschew them so that you might prosper.â204 Neither the Homilies nor the QurʾÄn forbid wine outright but note that it can lead it to impure actions.
In any case, the QurʾÄnic injunction to avoid al-maysir, if understood generally as âgambling,â appears original in this respect. But perhaps âgamblingâ gives a wrong sense. It must be noted that later Arabic lexicographers and QurʾÄnic commentators had different explanations for the word al-maysir: clearly, they struggled with it, having lost the original context and the exact meaning of the word. Let me cite the entry of al-FÄ«rÅ«zÄbÄdÄ«:
Al-maysir: a game with arrows (al-qidÄḥ). [The verb used is] yasara yaysiru. Or it denotes the animal fit for slaughter (al-jazÅ«r), which they [the people taking part in the maysir] would gamble (yataqÄmarÅ«na) on. If they wanted to play maysir, they would buy [together] one animal fit for slaughter (al-jazÅ«r) on credit. They would slaughter it before they would play maysir and divide it into 28 pieces or 10 pieces. Then they would draw, one at a time [the arrows/lots used in this game], which [i.e., the arrows/lots] would have the names of each man, indicating victory of the allotted share to the one whose lot would be drawn. The one whose arrow/lot would be empty (al-ghufl), would have to pay [for the slaughtered animal that was bought on credit]. Or al-maysir denotes backgammon (al-nard) or any game of gambling.205
The pre-Islamic Arabic poetry suggests that the game of maysir was usually played with a camel being the sacrificed animal.206 The famous poet Ê¿Alqama boasts, however, that he would participate even if the stake was a horse:
And oft-times have I played Maisir when hunger burdened the gaming-arrow of nabʿ-wood bound round with a sinew, marked with a notch by the teeth;
If they played the game with horses (instead of camels) as the stake, I would play it for the same stake: and whatsoever people stake is bound to be paid.207
While the exact rules and context of al-maysir are somewhat lost, it appears that, in the context of the late antique and QurʾÄnic gentile regulations, it makes sense to assume that the thing that the QurʾÄn wanted to prohibit was not gambling in general but that al-maysir should also be understood as a form of idol meat.208 That al-maysir is connected with slaughtering an animal and then gambling on it was, then, connected with sacrificing rites on cult stones, as Q 5:3 clearly suggests.
Connected with this, I would suggest that verse 2:256, regardless of its later uses and readings, should probably be understood in this context: âThere is no compulsion in the law (lÄ ikrÄh fÄ« al-dÄ«n).209 Guidance and error have been distinguished from each other: Who rejects idols (yakfur bi-l-á¹ÄghÅ«t)210 and believes in God has grasped the firmest handhold, which will not break. God is hearing, knowing.â In Q 2:256, as elsewhere, the law, al-dÄ«n, is specifically connected with the rejection of idols and, by extension, idol meat and drink.
The QurʾÄnic concern for purity extends to other things as well. Ablutions (attaining purity) before praying are mentioned in verse 5:6. Much as we could with hindsight detect a distinctly âIslamicâ set of requirements for ritual purity (washing oneself before prayer) here, things were probably not so simple in the seventh century when the first followers of Muḥammad (and probably others in the audience as well) would have heard him recite his revelations. The late antique Christian texts mentioned above, the pseudo-Clementine Homilies and the Didascalia, contain references to Christian groups that practiced washing themselves before praying and after having sex. Similar injunctions are also attested in rabbinic texts.211 In the case of verse 5:6 too, it is unclear if the QurʾÄnic message actually puts forward norms and rules that would have set its community apart from Jews and Christians. Rather, the opposite could be the case: the QurʾÄn accepts and acknowledges dietary and purity regulations that were perhaps widely followed in its context.212
The goal of this subsection was not to claim that QurʾÄnic legal discourse and reasoning lacks originality or is fully borrowed from Jewish understanding of the gentile Noahide laws or the Christian Apostolic decree. There are varied legal ordinances and arguments in the QurʾÄn that cannot be traced back to a Jewish or Christian exemplar. And, in any case, the QurʾÄn presents a unique combination of injunctions. However, the point remains that the QurʾÄnic prohibitions and instigations come close to Jewish and Christian understandings of those laws that the gentiles should follow. The QurʾÄn prompts, for example, âSay, âMy Lord has guided me to a straight path, an upright dÄ«n, the milla of Abraham, as a ḥanÄ«f, he was not an associatorââ¯â (6:161). That the law should be followed both Abrahamic-ly and gentile-ly is not, in fact, incongruous. It is the very point. Once again, the eschatological context of the QurʾÄnic kerygma has to be remembered (see also what follows). The gentiles of the QurʾÄn are âeschatological gentilesâ213 who need to adopt dietary, purity, and other regulations and to recant idolatry, totally and completely, to be saved, since the end is near. The Jews and Christians have already accepted the law, though their law includes superfluous aspects and their beliefs sometimes include views that are incompatible with the QurʾÄnic portrayal of stringent monotheism. In fact, Q 98:5 suggests that Jews as well as Christians would be better off if they followed the law in its gentile form. However, other passages, such as Q 5:43â48, note that Jews and Christians are free to (and indeed should) follow their own legal systems.
It is, moreover, possible that the gentiles in the audience also had already adopted many of the norms and practices advocated by the QurʾÄn: comparisons to late antique Christian rhetoric suggest that the claim that there are pagans who consume impure food and drink was a common, and exaggerated, literary motif.214 In the QurʾÄnic context, there was, in fact, a very small difference between the pagan way of slaughtering an animal and the QurʾÄnic-ly sanctioned one, in which Godâs name would have to be mentioned and the slaughtering could not be made on cult stones of any sort (in any case, the evidence suggests that such stones were no longer widely used in the sixth and seventh centuries).215
It is, I suggest, in the context of dietary and purity regulations that the QurʾÄnic portrayal of the community of the believers as âpureâ should be understood. For instance, Q 35:18 notes that the prophet is sent to warn those who fear God, pray, and follow the purity regulations (man tazakkÄ). In verse 2:129, Abraham and Ishmael pray to God that He will send a later messenger (probably a reference to Muḥammad) to, among other things, âpurify them.â Q 9:108 speaks of a prayer place (masjid) that has been founded on al-taqwÄ, piety, remarking that âin it are men216 who love to be pure (yataá¹ahharÅ«); and God loves the pure.â217
8 The Eschaton Postponed?
The Meccan strata of the QurʾÄn are replete with apocalyptic eschatology. The point appears to have been to get the gentiles, who were already monotheists of sorts or at least henotheists, to accept the imminence of the end and the reality of the hereafter. This was to make salvation accessible to gentiles too. Since this appears to have been achieved by the Medinan periodâthere is, after all, a much clearer sense of a community of believers in Medinaâthere was no longer so much need for this discourse. What is more, the Medinan environment had, it appears on the basis of the QurʾÄn, a much stronger Jewish and Christian presence than Mecca; these People of the Book did not have any doubts about the eschaton and the afterlife, so other QurʾÄnic themes could be pursued. Naturally, the Meccan pericopes of the QurʾÄn did not disappear anywhere; they were memorized (probably also written down to an extent) and recited among the community.
However, though not numerous, there are some Medinan verses that proclaim the end times. Consider, for instance, Q 22:55: âThose who disbelieve, will be in doubt until the (last) moment comes suddenly upon them; or (aw)218 the punishment of a barren day comes to them.â The verse communicates a very pressing sense of the end and judgment that are coming, as does Q 3:9, which notes that âGod will not break His promiseâ concerning the coming of the final judgment. More, but not completely, ambivalent is another Medinan verse, Q 33:63: âPeople ask you (sing.) about the (last) moment. Say: âKnowledge of it is with God.â What could make you (sing.) know [it]? Perhaps (la-Ê¿alla) the (last) moment is near (qarÄ«ban)!â In QurʾÄnic discourse, the expression la-Ê¿alla often denotes a wish (not just potentiality) that something may come true, so here too, the expectation of the impending end is present.
It seems to me that rather than supposing that the eschatological belief was watered down in the Medinan community, it lived on.219 Establishing a community and expecting the eschaton are not incongruous, as the historian of early Christianity Paula Fredriksen has pointed out: âIt is harder to wait and do nothing than it is to wait and do somethingâ;220 a similar situation may have existed in the Medinan community in 1â11/622â632. Though a (or, the) community of believers was founded, with a more developed sense of regulations and requirements, and though it was waging a war against an earthly enemy, this does not exclude the likelihood that they were avidly waiting for the end times to begin. That Muḥammad did not, it appears, appoint a successor suggests that he and his community were expecting the end to come any minute.221
To be a believer, according to the QurʾÄnic social categorization, one had to accept the leadership and prophetical role of Muḥammad (at least to some degree). But is the hereafter more pluralistic? Could one attain paradise without accepting Muḥammad? It would seem so, though the QurʾÄnic communication on this point is somewhat ambivalent.222
Much of the Medinan society (perhaps in contrast to that of Mecca)223 were believers in God and the last day, whatever their background. Rather than propounding depictions of the approaching end, the Medinan QurʾÄnic teaching puts forward discourses on the corporeal resurrection, the promise of paradise, and the threat of hellâtalking points that would have been utterly acceptable to, not to say acknowledged by, Jews and Christians. Significantly, while the Medinan pericopes (contra the Meccan ones) often suggest that the majority of the Jews and Christians were unfit to be considered true believers and members of the prophetâs community, late QurʾÄnic verses (e.g., 2:62, 2:277, 3:199, 5:69) still promise a paradisal reward224 to all and sundry among them provided that they fulfill the minimal requirements of believing in God and the eschaton and performing good deeds. In these verses, faith in the prophet Muḥammadâs message and revelation is not even mentioned as a requirement for the paradisal rewards.225 There are some verses which indicate the oppositeâfor instance, Q 9:80 says that God will not forgive those who do not believe in Muḥammad. Hence, the picture emerging from the QurʾÄn is not completely clear, but it still seems to me that the eschatological promise of 2:62, 3:199, and 5:69 is meant to incorporate a larger group than simply those who believe in Muḥammad. In fact, looking at verse 9:79, it appears to contextualize 9:80 more, mentioning those who actively scorn and ridicule the believers. An important verse in this connection is Q 74:31, which appears to be a later (probably Medinan) addition to a Mecca I sÅ«ra.226 In the verse, the People of the Book are depicted as alongside the believers and in contrast to the disbelievers:
We have appointed angels as guardians of the fire. Their number is a test for those who disbelieve so that those who have received the Book may be certain and those who believe might increase in faith; and so that those who have received the Book and the believers would not have any doubts; and so that those who have sickness in their hearts and the disbelievers would say: âWhat does God mean by this simile?â Thus, God leads astray who He wills and guides who He wills. None knows the hosts of your Lord except He. And it [the fire] is a reminder to humankind.
According to this verse, on one side are the People of the Book and the believers: the coming judgment does not perplex them but only lessens their doubts. On the other side, there are the disbelievers and âthose who have sickness in their hearts.â This verse is one of the clear examples in the QurʾÄn that the People of the Book are not categorized as disbelievers; rather, they are with the believers (and, as other verses propound, some of them are actually to be included in the social group of the believers).
A (somewhat) inclusivist afterlife would fit rather well some of the ancient and late ancient semi-universalist discourses of the last judgment, according to which salvation was not merely constrained to the in-group.227 The gentiles who fear God will earn a portion of heaven, opined the rabbis (e.g., Sanhedrin 105a). An earlier Jew, the apostle Paul, develops a prolonged argument of Israelâs sin, redemption, and their place vis-à -vis the gentiles in Romans 9â11, contending that âall Israelâ will be saved and âthe full number ofâ gentiles will come to Zion to experience and profit from the eschaton (Romans 11:25â26), though it is unclear whether or not Paul thought that belief in Christ Jesus is required. Origen (d. 254) also argued for an inclusivist afterlife, even letting, in the end, Satan thereâa doctrine condemned as heretical by the Second Council of Constantinople (553â¯CE).228 The QurʾÄnic promise of salvation being a multi-group enterprise is remarkable, but it is not, then, completely novel. This difference of present and future characterizations (critical comments toward the âothersâ in the context of this life but optimistic notions about their salvation at the eschaton) is attested in Jewish and Christian literature and theology as well.
9 Excursus: Arabic Historiography and the Medinan Era
The blurred boundaries are not entirely absent from the biographies of the prophet even as regards the Medinan era. It was indeed Ibn HishÄm who decided to include the âConstitutionâ of Medina in his work. Moreover, there are some narratives mentioning Jews qua Jews as members of the in-group, though it is more frequent to see Medinan Jews portrayed as a clearly distinct group from Muḥammadâs believers.229 There are also numerous interesting contacts between the communities, though they are often hostile. Both Muḥammad and AbÅ« Bakr are portrayed as having gone to a (Medinan?) bet midrash to argue with the rabbinic scholars there.230 More benevolent contacts can be seen in the fact that Arabic literature notes that some of Muḥammadâs wives were Jewish (á¹¢afiyya bint Ḥuyayy ibn Akhá¹ab and RayḥÄna bint ShamÊ¿Å«n ibn Zayd) and, at least one, Christian (the concubine Mary the Copt).231 If this is based on real recollections of events and figures, it signifies that not only were the prophetâs followers composed of Jews, Christians, and gentiles, his family was too. Though the later literature notes that á¹¢afiyya and RayḥÄna converted to Islam, there are reasons to doubt these conversion stories.232 Significant in this connection is also the case of the famous Ubayy ibn KaÊ¿b, who is, in the Arabic sources, described as a ḥibr (Jewish rabbi, though a Christian religious scholar could also be so denoted) before his conversion; later, he was one of the companions who collected a (pre-Ê¿UthmÄnic) version of the QurʾÄn.233
Another interesting anecdote takes place at the battle of Uḥud, where a certain learned Jew, called MukhayrÄ«q, fights on the side of Muḥammadâs community and dies. Only a few sources assume that he converted before his death: most sources present him as a Jew, though Ibn HishÄm makes the implausible claim that he rejected the Sabbath.234 Toward the end of the narrative, Muḥammad is quoted as saying: âMukhayrÄ«q is the best of the Jews.â According to the story, MukhayrÄ«q, the rabbi-cum-fighter, bequeathed his wealth to Muḥammad and his community.235 MukhayrÄ«q is a reversed God-fearer, so to speak, in the story: a Jew who associates with the gentile monotheists. Though not becoming a full member of the Muslim group (a category that the biographical literature retrojects to the time of the prophet), he fights for it and bequeaths his earthly belongings to it.
The double-affiliated MukhayrÄ«q is cited as a positive example. Usually, however, such group bending or crossing figures represent a threat or a negative model in the sÄ«ra narratives. No one exemplifies this better than the leader of the Khazraj tribe, Ê¿AbdallÄh ibn Ubayy ibn SalÅ«l. Though he is notionally a Muslim, on the side of Muḥammad and his followers, he sometimes schemes with their opponentsâaccording to the sÄ«ra reports, that isâthe Jews.236 He is a paradigmatic munÄfiq, a hypocrite who only feigns loyalty and belief. In the famous ḥadÄ«th al-ifk, the account of the lie, that is, the narrative about the events that led some people wrongly to accuse Ê¿Äʾisha, the prophetâs wife, of infidelity, Ê¿AbdallÄh ibn Ubayy is described as one of the most vehement spreaders of these false rumors.237 Despite all this, he dies a Muslim, with the prophet praying over his grave. The tales of his life form a narrated cluster of overlapping, hybrid identities that exist in tension. Ê¿AbdallÄh ibn Ubayy is a liminal Muslim, now affiliating with Muḥammad, other times with the Jews.
Narratives on Ethiopia and the Negus extend to the Medinan period. Ê¿Amr ibn al-Ê¿Äá¹£, who went, so we are told, to Ethiopia as an envoy of the Quraysh during the 610s CE to ask the Negus to relinquish Muḥammadâs believers to them, goes to Ethiopia again. In the narrative, he is still a polytheist and opponent of the prophet, siding with the Meccan Quraysh, though he is later known as an important general of the Muslim armies. After the battle of the trench (al-khandaq), he opines that it is better to go to Ethiopia and stay there and sit the war between Muḥammad and the Quraysh out. While in Ethiopia, Ê¿Amr ibn al-Ê¿Äá¹£ spots Ê¿Amr ibn Umayya, the prophet Muḥammadâs envoy there. Ê¿Amr ibn al-Ê¿Äá¹£ asks the Negus for permission to kill his namesake, but the Negus vehemently denies this, noting that Muḥammad is a true prophet who has received the same great law (al-nÄmÅ«s) that has come to Moses. Hearing this, Ê¿Amr ibn al-Ê¿Äá¹£ undergoes a moment of fundamental change, and decides to convert to Islam: âI asked him [the Negus] if he would accept my allegiance to Muhammad in Islam, and he stretched out his hand and I gave my allegiance.â238 Not only is the Ethiopian king a Christian-cum-Muslim, he can act on Muḥammadâs behalf and apparently accept conversions to Islam. Moreover, the connections with Muḥammadâs believers and the Negus continue to exist long after the emigrations, during the Meccan period, there. Though it strains credibility, from a historical point of view, that the Ethiopian king would have given his time or energy to hear about an Arabian prophet, much less to acknowledge him, it is certainly possible that some of Muḥammadâs believers went to Ethiopia. Once there, they would have had long-lasting and intimate contacts with the Ethiopian Christians.
In fact, the same report notes that the prophet had sent Ê¿Amr ibn Umayya to Ethiopia specifically âconcerning JaÊ¿far and his companions.â239 That is to say that Ê¿AlÄ«âs brother JaÊ¿far and a group of other Arabian believers are still lingering in Christian Ethiopia, even after the battle of the trench, when Muḥammadâs community was well established in Medina. Since no details of their stay are given in the literary evidence, how are we to imagine their stay in Ethiopia over all these years (either in historical or literary terms)? If, as the narratives tell us, JaÊ¿far and the others went there in the fifth year of Muḥammadâs mission in Mecca (ca. 615â¯CE), and if they were still there after the khandaq battle (ca. 5/626â627), this would mean that a community of Arabian believers stayed in Ethiopia over ten years. What did they do all that time? Where did they live? Where did they pray? Which scripture did they read (or hear)? I have suggested in this book that some believers in Muḥammadâs community self-identified, in fact, as Christians. The narratives about the Ethiopian exile might be a memory about these blurred lines in the early period. If there is any authentic information in the stories of JaÊ¿far and his companions in Ethiopia, one would suppose that they prayed in churches alongside the Ethiopian Christians.
It was noted in the previous chapter that the Arabic narratives on the Meccan period, in particular the trip to Ethiopia and back, display the affinity, but also the threat, of Christianity with Muḥammadâs believers. This is not entirely absent in the stories dealing with the Medinan period either, though they usually concentrate on discussing and drawing a boundary vis-à -vis the Jews (culminating in the violent massacre of the Jewish tribe of BanÅ« Qurayáºa). The Christian aspect is present in, for example, the story about the history of the call to prayer.240 First, Muḥammad entertains the idea that, according to the Jewish custom, a trumpet should be blown when it was prayer time. This is carried out for some time, until Muḥammad rejects the idea. Then, he orders the use of clappers (nawÄqÄ«s), as was the wont of Near Eastern Christians. After this, one Ê¿AbdallÄh ibn Zayd ibn ThaÊ¿laba has a dream in which the proper call to prayer is told to him. The prophet hears about this dream, acknowledges it as an authentic vision from God, and orders his community to call to prayer by using the human voice only. This is a remarkable story, which portrays Muḥammadâs believers trying out the practices of both Jews and Christians. The true vision indicating how the call to prayer should be given is not even received by Muḥammad but, as far as we know, a minor member of the community, Ê¿AbdallÄh ibn Zayd ibn ThaÊ¿laba.
The delegation of the Christians of al-NajrÄn should also be mentioned here.241 Though the narrative as presented by Ibn HishÄm endeavors to draw a firm line between the Christians and the Muslims, and, moreover, Ibn HishÄm appends a long passage where he adduces arguments and QurʾÄnic passages ostensibly proving the falsity of Christianity,242 what sticks out amid all this is the fact that, in the narrative, the Christians of al-NajrÄn insist that they are muslimÅ«n, submitters to God.243 Moreover, their deputation is depicted in glowing terms: they are, for example, knowledgeable about religion. Not only that, but they prayed in the prophetâs mosque in Medina, the prophet ordering that they should be free to do so.244 Though the narrative ends in a Christological dispute between Muḥammad and the Christians, the story fails to portray Christians and Muslims as wholly other.
10 Conclusions on the Medinan Era
In this book I have tried to argue that the community and message of Muḥammad fits seamlessly into the late antique world of Arabia. Rather than supposing that early Islam was sui generis, from a historical perspective it makes more sense to assume that new phenomena and social groups arise in contexts where the group beliefs and practices are in relationship with those present in the time and place already.245 The âConstitutionâ and the QurʾÄnâs willingness to accommodate and include Jews and Christians in the believer group only makes sense if a) there were Jews and Christians around; b) they themselves (or some of them) were willing to join the group, not seeing it as totally alien.
Much as the early Jesus movement comprised, in the first century CE, both Jewish and gentile members, the community of believers around Muḥammad consisted of gentiles, Jews, and Christians.246 This somewhat inclusive situation did not really change in Medina, according to the QurʾÄnic evidence and the âConstitution,â247 though there is more criticism of the People of the Book in the Medinan strata. Yet, there is no sign of a specific or formal conversion rite that people should undergo to join the group, nor is there a demand to forsake earlier ethno-religious identities.248 Granted, Medinan QurʾÄnic communication is, at times, suspicious of the âJewsâ and âChristiansâ as broader social categories,249 but the suspicion is not total. Even the very latest strata of the QurʾÄn, such as sÅ«ra 5, does not indicate that Muḥammadâs community would have âpartedâ from the Jews and Christians. Naturally, since we do not really have identifiable texts produced by these Jews and Christians at the time of the prophet Muḥammad, with the possible exception of the poem by al-AÊ¿shÄ,250 it is difficult to say how they themselves understood their affiliation with the believer movement: perhaps some of them only considered themselves allies or auxiliary members. But the QurʾÄn and the âConstitutionâ appear to suggest more than that: these Muḥammad-believing Jews and Christians were indeed part of the community.251
The eschatological urgency, indeed the already-arrived presence of the eschaton, of the Meccan QurʾÄnic revelations is toned down somewhat in the Medinan strata, though it is still present and operative. The belief in the last day is one of the core principles of the community in the QurʾÄn and the âConstitutionâ of Medina. The threat of hell and the promise of paradise are at the center of the QurʾÄnic proclamation, and late key verses (Q 2:62, 5:69) reiterate that the believers, whatever their backgroundâgentile, Jewish, Christian, or Sabianâare eligible for paradise. In the Medinan pericopes, the significance of the law (al-dÄ«n) and its observance (al-islÄm)âwhich is synonymous with obeying God and the prophetâis underscored. The Jews and Christians, within (and without?) Muḥammadâs community of believers, ought to follow their own dietary and purity regulations, while the gentile believers should take up the law ḥanÄ«fan, gentile-ly (in any case, Q 5:5 notes that the gentile conception of licit and illicit foods are more or less the same as those of the People of the Book). The community of the believers fights against a common enemy: this enemy, however, cannot be simply equated with the People of the Book. Moreover, fighting or conquests do not seem to be related to any eschatological or imperial drama in the QurʾÄn252 (though this idea might be prevalent in the later, but still emerging, Islamic community after the death of the prophet). However, the eschaton was still deemed to be at hand, though the urgency of it in the QurʾÄnic portrayal is not so pronounced as in Meccan pericopes. The fact that there were early and rancorous disputes about the khalÄ«fa, heir or follower, of the prophet after his death seems to denote that he did not pick one, which I take to mean that he thought that the world was going to end before his demise.253
When the prophet Muḥammad breathed his last, what he left behind was a community of gentile, Jewish, and Christian believers. People from different ethno-linguistic and religious backgrounds had joined the movement. Soon after his death, the Arabian believers conquered much of the Near East, North Africa, and Central Asia. But the social categorizations were still in a state of flux. The next two chapters look at two different but interlinked topics: first, how people who did not become part of the community of the believers viewed it and its prophet; and, second, how the community itself began, in the second/eighth century, to articulate and understand its distinctive identity as âMuslims.â Through this, somewhat slow, process, a new social category was born.
AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, KitÄb al-amwÄl, ed. ShÄkir Dhiʾb FayyÄá¸, 3 vols., Riadh: Markaz al-Malik Fayá¹£al li-l-Buḥūth wa-l-DirÄsÄt al-IslÄmiyya, 1986, ii, 466 and 472â473, remarks that the document was drafted immediately when the prophet Muḥammad came to Medina. We do not have to take AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd at his word, though this is a plausible suggestion. See also Lecker, Michael, The âConstitution of Medinaâ: Muhammadâs first legal document, Princeton NJ: Darwin Press, 2004, 182, for the date of the text and Lindstedt, ââ¯âOne communityââ¯â for a comparison of the discourse of the treaty with different QurʾÄnic strata. This section reproduces some passages from the latter study.
The document has generated quite a bit of modern scholarship. See, e.g., Watt, Muhammad at Medina 221â226; Serjeant, Robert B., âThe Constitution of Medina,â in Islamic Quarterly 8 (1964), 3â16, and âThe Sunnah JâmiÊ¿ah pacts with the Yathrib Jews, and the Taḥrîm of Yathrib: Analysis and translation of the documents comprised in the so-called âConstitution of Medinaâ,â in BSOAS 41 (1978), 1â42; Gil, Moshe, âThe Constitution of Medina: A reconsideration,â in IOS 4 (1974), 44â65; Denny, Frederick Mathewson, âUmmah in the Constitution of Medina,â in JNES 36 (1977), 39â47; Rubin, Uri, âThe âConstitution of Medinaâ: Some notes,â in SI 62 (1985), 5â23; Humphreys, Islamic history 91â99; Arjomand, âThe Constitution of Medinaâ; Munt, The holy city 54â64; Lindstedt, ââ¯âOne community.ââ¯â The most important study on the text in recent years is undoubtedly Lecker, The âConstitution of Medina.â However, as will be seen here, my interpretations differ markedly from his. Lecker reads the whole document in a supposed context of legislation on homicide and bloodwite. This misrepresents the text, which is much more diverse in themes. For a critical take on the interpretations of the âorientalistsâ on this text, see al-Faruqi, Maysam J., âUmma: The Orientalists and the QurʾÄnic concept of identity,â in JIS 16 (2005), 1â34.
E.g., Crone, Slaves on horses 7: âThe Constitution of Medina is preserved in Ibn IsḥÄqâs SÄ«ra, in which it sticks out like a piece of solid rock in an accumulation of rubble.â
Watt, Muhammad at Medina 225 (though note that, as I argue in this chapter, the appellation âbelieversâ is the primary one throughout the QurʾÄn, up to the very latest strata, such as sÅ«ra 5).
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, i 341â344.
AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 466â470, with an interpretative commentary by AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd in ii 471â473.
Lecker, The âConstitution of Medina.â
Lecker, The âConstitution of Medinaâ 7. This is how, it appears, many early Arabic documents survived; see Anthony, Muhammad and the empires of faith 106.
Anthony, Muhammad and the empires of faith 168.
On the different social categorizations and meanings attached to them in the text, see, in more detail, Lindstedt, ââ¯âOne community.ââ¯â
Called al-nabÄ«, âthe prophet,â in Ibn HishÄmâs version (SÄ«ra, i, 341), and al-nabÄ« rasÅ«l allÄh, âthe prophet, the messenger of God,â in AbÅ« Ê¿Ubaydâs (KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 466).
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, i 341. AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 466, has ahl yathrib, âthe people of Yathrib,â as opposed to simply yathrib; his version also adds â(those who) reside with themâ (fa-ḥalla maÊ¿ahum) after â(those who) join them.â
For discussion, see, e.g., Denny, âUmmah in the Constitutionâ 43â44; Serjeant, âThe Sunnah JâmiÊ¿ah pactsâ 12â13; Lecker, The âConstitution of Medinaâ 40â45.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, I 341; AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 466â467. The point about bloodwites might also be understood as denoting that the tribes should pay the bloodwites that are currently owed to the other tribes of the Medinan coalition.
What ensues is from Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, i 342; AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 468.
Thus in Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, i 342. AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 468, adds the word âandâ between the two words: al-muʾminÄ«n wa-l-muttaqÄ«n.
The last word, bi-l-Ê¿aql, âbloodwite,â is only present in AbÅ« Ê¿Ubaydâs version (KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 468), but the context requires it so I suggest that it was part of the original wording of the document.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, i 343; AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 469.
Thus in Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, i 342. AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 468, has, instead of al-naá¹£r, al-maÊ¿rÅ«f, which could be translated as âamicabilityâ or âfairness.â
This is a common QurʾÄnic refrain and definition of the minimal requirements for being a believer (e.g., Q 2:126 and 2:232).
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, i 342â343; AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 469.
Viz.: yahÅ«d banÄ« al-najjÄr, yahÅ«d banÄ« al-ḥÄrith, yahÅ«d banÄ« sÄÊ¿ida, yahÅ«d banÄ« jusham, yahÅ«d banÄ« al-aws, yahÅ«d banÄ« thaÊ¿laba, and biá¹Änat yahÅ«d (Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, i 342â343; AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 469).
Later, the document returns to the question of expenses, probably in the context of warfare: Ê¿alÄ al-yahÅ«d nafaqatuhum wa-Ê¿alÄ al-muslimÄ«n nafaqatuhum, âthe Jews have [at their responsibility] their expenses, and the muslimÅ«n have [at their responsibility] their expensesâ (Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, i 343, AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 469).
Despite the fact that the word umma later comes to denote the Muslim community in a broad sense, in the âConstitutionâ and the QurʾÄn umma signifies groups of varying sizes. See, e.g., Q 3:104, where the word is used to denote a group among the community of the believers.
Rubin, âThe Constitution of Medinaâ 20. On the other hand, Lecker, The âConstitution of Medinaâ 139â147, claims that we should replace the word umma with amana and translate: âThe Jews of the BanÅ« Ê¿Awf are secure from (amana min) the MuʾminÅ«n.â But this is based on extremely poor textual evidence and, frankly, special pleading. Leckerâs contention in his study is that the Jews and believers were distinct groups and, moreover, that the Jews were not really part of the âone community.â As far as I know, Lecker is the only scholar to have put forward this; the suggestion does not seem to have been accepted by other scholars.
Though Jaakko Hämeen-Anttila has noted to me in a personal communication that one could hypothesize that a copyist, used to seeing (in the QurʾÄn and elsewhere in Arabic literature) a very common phrase min al-muʾminÄ«n, might have accidentally changed maÊ¿a al-muʾminÄ«n to min al-muʾminÄ«n.
Rubin, âThe Constitution of Medinaâ 14.
AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 469; Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, i 342.
See also Donner, âFrom believers to Muslimsâ 31â33.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, i 342; AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 468.
Serjeant, âThe Sunnah JâmiÊ¿ah pactsâ 26, astutely notes that the document presents the Jews and other believers as equals payers of the nafaqa.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, i 342. This clause is missing in AbÅ« Ê¿Ubayd, KitÄb al-AmwÄl.
This appears only in Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, i 344, but it makes sense as a closing statement. AbÅ« Ê¿Ubaydâs version (KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 470) ends differently: âthe best partaker of this document is the pious doer of goodâ (inna awlÄhum bi-hÄdhihi al-á¹£aḥīfa al-barr al-muḥsin). In both Ibn HishÄmâs (SÄ«ra, i 341) and AbÅ« Ê¿Ubaydâs (KitÄb al-AmwÄl, ii 466) versions the document began by mentioning its source and authority as the prophet. It would make sense to expect the âConstitutionâ to end with a mention of Muḥammad as well.
For the common in-group identity model, see Gaertner, Samuel L. and John F. Dovidio, Reducing intergroup bias: The common ingroup identity model, Philadelphia PA: Psychology Press, 2000.
Gaertner and Dovidio, Reducing intergroup bias 86â87, 97, 146â148, 163â168, note that the common in-group mode works best if the previous identities are not rejected but rather treated as legitimate sub-identities.
Gaertner and Dovidio, Reducing intergroup bias 7.
Haslam, Reicher and Platow, The new psychology of leadership 89. Siegel and Badaan note with regard to modern sectarian speech online: âWe find that elite-endorsed messages that prime common religious identity are the most consistently effective in reducing the spread of sectarian hate speech. Our results provide suggestive evidence that religious elites may play an important role as social referentsâalerting individuals to social norms of acceptable behavior.â (Siegel, Alexandra A. and Vivienne Badaan, â#No2Sectarianism: Experimental approaches to reducing sectarian hate speech online,â in American Political Science Review 114/3 (2020), 837â855, at 837.)
If this is the case, then my proposal that, in this text, the word muʾminūn denotes in particular the gentile component in the community of the believers will have to be revised.
In contrast to the Meccan layer of the QurʾÄn, the Medinan one consists of, by and large, longer sÅ«ras, some of which are compilations of diverse materials stemming from various years of the prophetâs life; see Neuwirth, âVom Rezitationstextâ; Sinai, âProcesses of literary growth.â Pace Shoemaker, Creating the Qurʾan, I opine that the bulk of the material goes back to Muḥammadâs proclamation. As for Reda, Nevin, The al-Baqara crescendo: Understanding the Qurʾanâs style, narrative structure, and running themes, Montreal, 2017, and âThe poetics of SÅ«rat Äl Ê¿ImrÄnâs narrative structure (Q 3),â in Marianna Klar (ed.), Structural dividers in the Qurʾan, London: Routledge, 2021, 27â53, she suggests that even longer sÅ«ras such as Q 2 and Q 3 can be interpreted as single units with meticulous organization. Redaâs idea is not necessarily incompatible with Neuwirth, Sinai, and other scholarsâ view that the longer sÅ«ras consists of distinct, non-contemporaneous pericopes: it can be suggested that whoever edited the passages into single sÅ«ras (in my opinion probably a post-prophetic process) paid attention to the format and organization of these units. For an excellent introduction to the Medinan QurʾÄn, see Sinai, Nicolai, âThe unknown known: Some groundwork for interpreting the Medinan Qurʾan,â in Mélanges de lâUniversité Saint-Joseph 66 (2015â2016), 47â96; however, as will be seen, my interpretation of the religious groups and social categorizations in the Medinan layers of the QurʾÄn differs substantially from Sinaiâs reading.
The theoretical background that I put forward in this section is that identities can be understood to be âsignaledâ through, for example, clothing, practices, or discourse, as articulated by Ehala, Martin, Signs of identity: The anatomy of belonging, London: Routledge, 2018. On this, see also Lindstedt, âSigns of identity in the Quran.â Bar-Asher, Jews and the Qurʾan 91â101, compares QurʾÄn and Jewish notions of prayer and fasting, though his conclusions diverge from mine.
See, e.g., Fazlur Rahman, Major themes, who emphasizes taqwÄ, piety or God-consciousness, over other aspects of the QurʾÄn.
For a treatment of the narrative structure of Q 3 (an important sÅ«ra regarding the social identity of the Medinan community), see Reda, âThe poetics of SÅ«rat Äl Ê¿ImrÄn.â
On this, see also Rubin, Uri, âMorning and evening prayers in early Islam,â in JSAI 10 (1987), 40â64, who also treats later Arabic literature on this question.
Jeffery, The foreign vocabulary 153, 198â199.
This appears to be addressing the gentiles, who consist of both believers and disbelievers and who are contrasted with the believing Jews and Christians (âthose who have been given knowledge beforeâ).
Sinai, Rain-giver 51.
This is, naturally, prescriptive. It is safe to say that there have been, in the past as well as today, a large number of Muslims (perhaps the majority) who do not pray five times a day.
See QÂ 2:238, 6:52, 7:204â206, 11:114, 17:78â79, 18:28, 20:130, 24:58, 25:64, 50:39, 52:48â49, 76:26.
Jaffee, Early Judaism, 196; Stroumsa, The making of the Abrahamic religions 161.
Ehrman, After the New Testament 460.
For an important reading of the style and structure of sūra 2, see Reda, The al-Baqara crescendo.
On verses Q 2:183â186, see also Sinai, âTowards a redactional history,â 368â371. He suggests that Q 2:183â184 and Q 2:185â186 form two distinct utterances. He notes that Q 2:183â184 embrace and endorse a type of fasting that was in line with existing Jewish custom, though Q 2:185â186 (a later insertion) offered âa more autonomous practice,â according to Sinai. It is true that Q 2:185 proclaims the month of Ramaá¸Än as the (a?) month of fasting. However, the QurʾÄn does not articulate this in contrast to Jews or Christians.
Miller, Tribal poetics 104; Sinai, Rain-giver 52.
Mortensen, A contribution 159â171.
Mortensen, A contribution 171.
RIÃth 191, quoted in Robin, âḤimyar, AksÅ«mâ 155. There is a cross engraved before âin battles.â
Tesei, Tommaso, âHeracliusâ war propaganda and the QurʾÄnâs promise of reward for dying in battle,â in SI 114/2 (2019), 219â247. See also Sarris, Empires of faith 266â267.
The literature on religious warfare and Islam is immense. For orientation, see Cook, David, Martyrdom in Islam, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007; Demichelis, Marco, Violence in early Islam: Religious narratives, the Arab conquests and the canonization of jihad, London: I.B. Tauris, 2021; Firestone, Reuven, Jihad: The origin of holy war in Islam, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999.
For the words hijra and muhÄjirÅ«n and their probable connection with fighting (in later evidence at least), see Crone, âThe first-century conceptâ and Hoyland, Seeing Islam 548.
The interpretations of the phrase al-jizya Ê¿an yad vary. The word al-jizya refers to tax or tribute, but Ê¿an yad is somewhat mysterious. It could mean âwillingly,â âreadily,â âin kind,â âfor each person,â âout of their own property,â or something else. For interpretations, see Bravmann, The spiritual background 199â212; Rubin, Uri, âQurʾÄn and poetry: More data concerning the QurʾÄnic jizya verse (Ê¿an yadin),â in JSAI 31 (2006), 139â146.
Firestone, Jihad 77. However, in contrast to Firestone, I do not think that the in-group described in the QurʾÄn can be called âthe Muslim community.â
For more on the âfree-rider problemâ in religious groups, see Stark, Rodney, The rise of Christianity: How the obscure, marginal Jesus movement became the dominant religious force in the Western world in a few centuries, San Francisco CA: HarperSanFrancisco, 1997, 174â176.
For orientation, see the valuable survey by Adang, Camilla, âHypocrites and hypocrisy,â in EQ, ii (2002), 468â472. The Arabic munÄfiq derives from the Ethiopic manÄfeq, which has meanings related to hypocrisy, doubt, dividing the community, and causing schisms. See Dost, An Arabian QurʾÄn, 227â229. Once again, the connection to Southern Arabia and its religious map and vocabulary is palpable.
Bar-Asher, Jews and the Qurʾan 51, asserts: âThe Bible does not attest to either [Q 2:61 and Q 5:70] of these accusations from the Qurʾan, nor to any instance of the specific charges they inspired; namely, that the Jews killed some particular prophet or another.â However, the reader is confused since Bar-Asher then goes to list Biblical passages that do mention the killing of the prophets (1â¯Kings 19:19 and Jeremiah 2:30, and, from the New Testament, Matthew 23:37, Luke 13:34, Romans 11:3, 1â¯Thessalonians 2:14â15, to which one should add Luke 11:48 and Matthew 23:29â31). It would seem to me, then, that the idea that some Jewish individuals or groups had at some point killed some (anonymous) prophets was current among the Jews themselves. For the idea that the New Testament books can be read as evidence for Jewish (rather than Christian) notions and narratives, see Boyarin, The Jewish Gospels.
This harks back to Luke 11:49, where Jesus says: âTherefore also the Wisdom of God said, âI will send them prophets and apostles, some of whom they will kill and persecuteââ¯â; el-Badawi, The QurʾÄn and the Aramaic gospel traditions 121â125.
See also el-Badawi, The QurʾÄn and the Aramaic gospel traditions 87â88.
Sinai, The Qurʾan 125, for instance, argues that verses such as 5:12â19, 41â86, and 116â118 âbetray an explicit demarcation of the Qurʾanic community from Judaism and Christianity and harshly criticise Jewish and Christian beliefs.â
See also Sachedina, The Islamic roots 26: âthe Koranâs theology of religious tolerance cannot be ascribed [merely] to the earlier Mekkan period of the revelation when Muslims lived as a minority in the midst of a hostile majority of the unbelievers, as some modern Muslim apologists have tried to argue.â
For its structure, see Sinai, âTowards a redactional history,â who views both Q 4 and Q 5 as having been subject to quite a lot of redaction, though he does not argue that these instances of redaction are necessarily post-Muḥammadan.
On this verse, its exegesis, and late antique Christian parallels, see also Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 411â415.
This appears to be because verses such as 2:62 and 5:69 articulate a more universalistic understanding of paradise. For more on the social groups in the QurʾÄnic conceptualization of the afterlife, see below in this chapter.
According to both Jewish and Christian texts, the late antique Jews and Christians did quarrel with each other about who the people and sons of God are; el-Badawi, The QurʾÄn and the Aramaic gospel traditions 95â96; Jaffee, Early Judaism 222. This QurʾÄnic argument should be understood in this context.
On it, see also Sinai, The Qurʾan 130â132.
On this verse and its context, see also Günther, Sebastian, âO people of the scripture! Come to a word common to you and us (Q. 3:64): The ten commandments and the Qurʾan,â in JQS 9/1 (2007), 28â58, who reads the verse as referring to the allusions of the Decalogue in Q 17:23â39 and Q 6:151â153.
Tertullian, Prescription of the Heretics 38, trans. in Ehrman, After the New Testament 247â248.
Stroumsa, The making of the Abrahamic religions, 153. As Zellentin, ââ¯âOne letter yudââ¯â 222, notes: âaccording to Maniâs teaching, even the true Scriptures are interspersed with falsehoods, a teaching that was widespread among Marcionites and Manicheans alike, and will find another iteration in the so-called Clementine Homilies.â
Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 414.
Similarly, see Q 2:275. On the chain of prophets, see el-Badawi, The QurʾÄn and the Aramaic gospel traditions 78â113; Sachedina, The Islamic roots 37.
For a different interpretation, see Bar-Asher, Jews and the Qurʾan 48â50.
Shoemakerâs formulation is apt, âA new Arabic apocryphonâ 34â35: âwe certainly may not presume that the QurʾÄn was understood from the beginning as a new revelation intended to supersede and displace these previous dispensations. When and how the QurʾÄn attained this status among those who followed Muḥammad is still not entirely clear. Accordingly, we should remain open to the possibility that until later in the seventh century, the QurʾÄn may have been understood as having a more supplementary, rather than supplanting, relation to the biblical traditions.â However, I would perhaps place the point in time even after that, perhaps in the early eighth century. As I will elucidate in chapter 8, a distinctive Islamic identity is not well attested before the early eighth century. Scriptural supersessionism was definitely one of the important means through which such an identity and positive distinctiveness was articulated. As far as I know, no seventh-century source suggests that the QurʾÄn was interpreted as having supplanted other scriptures: certainly, the QurʾÄn, the âConstitution,â or surviving early Arabic inscriptions or papyri do not. The seventh-century non-Arabic sources do not ascribe this view to the Arabian believers either.
With the word âintra-group,â I draw attention to the fact that, according to my reading of the QurʾÄn, some of the People of the Book are accepted as in-group members.
E.g., Boyarin, Border lines; The Jewish Gospels; Fredriksen, Paul; When Christians were Jews; Hakola, Identity matters; Reconsidering Johannine Christianity; Wilson, Related strangers.
See Tajfel, Henri, Human groups and social categories: Studies in social psychology, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981, and Differentiation between social groups.
Though see el-Badawi, The QurʾÄn and the Aramaic gospel traditions, 114â143.
As mentioned in the previous chapter, the QurʾÄnic category âthe Israelitesâ is somewhat ambiguous and is sometimes used in reference to Christians as well.
See Bar-Asher, Jews and the Qurʾan 44â48; Wasserstrom, Steven M., Between Muslim and Jew: The problem of symbiosis in early Islam, Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995, 183.
See also Zellentin, Holger M., âAḥbÄr and RuhbÄn: Religious leaders in the QurʾÄn in dialogue with Christian and Rabbinic literature,â in Angelika Neuwirth and Michael A. Sells (eds.), Qurʾanic studies today, London: Routledge, 2016, 258â289.
Bar-Asher, Jews and the Qurʾan 31, claims that âin contrast to the Mosaic text and the book of the prophets, which constantly reiterate that the various divine punishments visited upon Israel do not call into question Godâs unconditional fidelity to it, in the Qurʾan the peopleâs conduct justifies that they be stripped of election.â However, this is a rather optimistic interpretation of the prophetical books of the Hebrew Bible. The idea that Israel has, at some point of its history, broken the covenant and lived without it and the election can also be found in the Hebrew Bible. See Jeremiah 11, Ezekiel 44:7, and Isaiah 24:5.
See also Sinai, âTowards a redactional historyâ 387, who notes that Q 4:153â154 might have originally formed a unit with Q 4:160â162. Verses 4:155â159 would then be a later addition.
El-Badawi, The QurʾÄn and the Aramaic gospel traditions 115, suggests that a similar verse, Q 3:93, signifies that the Jews âhave lost their scriptureâ and that âtheir dietary prohibitions are a fabrication,â but this appears to me to be a tortuous interpretation which does not take into account that the QurʾÄn never categorically censures the Torah or the Jewish conceptualization or observance of the law.
In this verse, âbelieversâ refers to the Jewish lay believers in my interpretation. They are contrasted to the Jewish scholars, those âwell-versed in knowledge.â
On the passages and later Muslim interpretive traditions, see Bar-Asher, Jews and the Qurʾan 53â55; Esack, âThe portrayal of Jewsâ; Reynolds, Allah 168â171; Rubin, Uri, âApes, pigs, and the Islamic identity,â in IOS 17 (1997), 89â105.
In QÂ 2:61, the Israelites are complaining about eating the same food over and over again: however, instead of meat, they ask for vegetables, cucumbers, garlic, lentils, and onions.
Rubin, Uri, ââ¯âBecome you apes, repelled!â (Quran 7:166): The transformation of the Israelites into apes and its Biblical and Midrashic background,â in BSOAS, 78 (2015), 25â40.
Rubin, ââ¯âBecome you apes, repelled!ââ¯â 39.
El-Badawi, The QurʾÄn and the Aramaic gospel traditions 115, claims that in the QurʾÄn al-yahÅ«d âis never used in a positive light.â But surely this is oversimplifying matters: Q 2:62 and 5:69 promise a heavenly reward to them (on this, see what follows in this chapter) and Q 4:46 and Q 4:162 note that some Jews, though a minority of them, are to be counted as believers.
Hesitation, since I understand that this line of thought could be used to buttress anti-Semitic hate speech.
Fredriksen, From Jesus to Christ 188, emphasis in the original.
Jaffee, Early Judaism 132â133.
However, cf. Carmeli, âCircumcision in Early Islam,â who sees QÂ 2:124â130 as referring to the habit.
The word âhimâ would refer here to Abraham, who is the subject of the verses before QÂ 16:124. However, it is also possible to render this as âthe Sabbath imposed on those who argue about it [scil. the Sabbath],â but this does not seem to me to be the preferable interpretation.
Though it never mentions trinitarianism as articulated in Nicaea and later church councils as consisting of God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.
See, e.g., Reynolds, Allah 12â14, for a discussion. For the later interpretive traditions, see McAuliffe, Jean Dammen, QurʾÄnic Christians: An analysis of classical and modern exegesis, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991.
See chapter 3 for this.
As noted by Sahner, the QurʾÄnic discourse on monks is somewhat ambivalent (Sahner, Christian C., âIslamic legends about the birth of monasticism: A case study on the late antique milieu of the QurʾÄn and TafsÄ«r,â in Robert G. Hoyland (ed.), The late antique world of early Islam: Muslims among Christians and Jews in the East Mediterranean, Princeton NJ: Darwin Press, 2015, 393â435). In this passage, however, the depiction is very positive.
E.g., Reynolds, Allah 12â13; Sinai, The Qurʾan 200â202.
In this connection, see also Donner, âFrom believers to Muslimsâ 25â27.
Most recently on Jesus in the QurʾÄn, see Costa, âEarly Islam as a messianic movementâ; Dye, âMapping the sources of the Qurʾanic Jesus.â
El-Badawi, The QurʾÄn and the Aramaic gospel traditions 105â107.
For a discussion of the term al-masīḥ in the QurʾÄn, see Costa, âEarly Islam as a messianic movementâ 48â75.
Reynolds, Allah 55.
It is, then, not only Abraham that foresees Muḥammad in the QurʾÄn (see the previous chapter), Jesus does too. Note the New Testament parallels of these predictions: in John 8:56, Jesus is quoted as telling the Jews that Abraham has foreseen him. Paul, in Galatians 3:16, claimed that Jesus is the seed (in singular) of Abraham.
El-Badawi, The QurʾÄn and the Aramaic gospel traditions 157â159; this translates the Greek logos of John 1, though it is reinterpreted in the QurʾÄn, which disagrees with the ending of John 1:1, âthe Word was God.â
Note the important study Anthony, Sean W., âThe virgin annunciate in the Meccan Qurʾan: Q. Maryam 19:19 in context,â in JNES 81 (2022), 363â385, which discusses the interesting wording in Q 19:19. In the verse, the angel says: âI am the Messenger of your Lord, I have come to give you (li-ahaba laki) a pure son.â Here the QurʾÄn does not differ from some Christian late antique interpretations of the conception: Gabriel was seen as an agent of sorts in this, having perfumed Mary or having entered her womb via her mouth.
This idea is also present in Paul, see el-Badawi, The QurʾÄn and the Aramaic gospel traditions 79.
The question of whether the QurʾÄn suggests that Jesus was crucified or not is beyond the theme of the present inquiry. On this question, see Griffith, The Bible in Arabic 37â38, 88â89. Recently, Juan Cole has emphasized that the QurʾÄn Q 4:157 exonerates the Jews of blame for having killed Jesus (Cole, Juan, ââ¯âIt was made to appear to them soâ: The crucifixion, Jews and Sasanian war propaganda in the QurʾÄn,â in Religion 51/3 [2021], 404â422).
For the eschatological Jesus, see Reynolds, Allah 70â71.
On this expression, see Griffith, Sidney H., âSyriacisms in the âArabic QurʾÄnâ: Who were those who said âAllÄh is third of threeâ according to al-MÄʾida 73?â in Meir Bar-Asher et al. (eds.), A word fitly spoken: Studies in mediaeval exegesis of the Hebrew Bible and the QurʾÄn presented to Haggai Ben-Shammai, Jerusalem: Ben-Zvi, 2007, 83â110.
For these verses, see the important comments in Azaiez et al. (eds.), The Qurʾan seminar commentary: A collaborative study of 50 Qurʾanic passages, Berlin: De Gruyter, 2016, 111â117.
Sinai, The Qurʾan 125.
The verb used is anzala, which is often used in the QurʾÄn in the context of God giving the prophets revelation or scripture.
This word appears to be a loanword from GeÊ¿ez, where its cognate is related to the Eucharist; see Jeffery, The foreign vocabulary 255â256.
The verb used in this verse is awḥÄ. This is rather remarkable: the disciples/apostles were God-inspired. It shows how far the QurʾÄn sometimes goes to embrace the Christians.
Azaiez et al. (eds.), The Qurʾan seminar commentary 113â117, discuss different possible subtexts for this QurʾÄnic narrative that appears to echo the narratives of the last supper: Matthew 14:13â21 and 15:32â39; Acts 10; John 6:22â71 and 10. However, Reynolds rejects this association and rather connects the passage with the story of Moses and the Israelites in the desert and the Ethiopic translation of Psalm 78:19 (Reynolds, Gabriel, âOn the QurʾÄnâs MÄʾida passage and the wanderings of the Israelites,â in Carlos A. Segovia and Basil Lourié (eds.), The coming of the comforter: When, where, and to whom? Studies on the rise of Islam and various other topics in memory of John Wansbrough, Piscataway NJ: Gorgias Press, 2012, 91â108).
âOn the Day when God assembles all the messengers and asks, âWhat response did you receive?â they will say, âWe do not have that knowledge: You alone know things that cannot be seen.ââ¯â
This is not, naturally, the âorthodoxâ understanding of the Trinity or of Mary, as has been pointed out by modern scholars. For these QurʾÄnic statements and their context, see the lucid study by Sirry, Munâim A., âReinterpreting the QurʾÄnic criticism of other religions,â in Angelika Neuwirth and Michael Sells (eds.), Qurʾanic studies today, London: Routledge, 2016, 294â309.
See also el-Badawi, The QurʾÄn and the Aramaic gospel traditions 78â83.
As argued by Fredriksen, Paul 131â145, who deconstructs conventional interpretations of Romans 1:3â4 and Philippians 2:6â11.
Pseudo-Clementine Recognitions 1:48.
Pseudo-Clementine Recognitions 1:16.
Räisänen, Das koranische Jesusbild. He continued to write on the topic sporadically until his death in 2015: see Räisänen, âThe portrait of Jesusâ and the articles collected in his The Bible among scriptures and other essays, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017.
Räisänen, âThe portrait of Jesusâ 126â128.
Räisänen, âThe portrait of Jesusâ 129, emphasis in the original.
Sarris, Empires of faith, 266, makes an important point: âThe respect in the Qurʾan for the Virgin Mary, but its denial of Jesusâ divinity and crucifixion, chime closely with shades of contemporary Christianity, both âorthodoxâ and âheterodoxâ ⦠What Muhammadâs austere monotheism cut through were the complexities and controversies of Christian Trinitarian and Christological doctrine. In that sense it was itself a fulsome response to contemporary Christian debate.â
E.g., Crone, âJewish Christianityâ; Pines, Shlomo, âNotes on Islam and on Arabic Christianity and Judaeo-Christianity,â JSAI 4 (1984), 135â152; Stroumsa, The making of the Abrahamic religions 5, 139â158; Wasserstrom, Between Muslim and Jew 37â41. For more on this, including critical viewpoints, see the articles collected in Francisco del RÃo Sánchez, (ed.), Jewish Christianity and the origins of Islam: Papers presented at the colloquium held in Washington DC, October 29â31, 2015 (8th ASMEA Conference) (Judaïsme ancien et origines du christianisme 13), Turnhout: Brepols, 2018.
E.g., Dye, âMapping the sources of the Qurʾanic Jesusâ 158â162; Shoemaker, Stephen, âJewish Christianity, non-trinitarianism, and the beginnings of Islam,â in Francisco del RÃo Sánchez (ed.), Jewish Christianity and the origins of Islam: Papers presented at the colloquium held in Washington DC, October 29â31, 2015 (8th ASMEA Conference) (Judaïsme ancien et origines du christianisme 13), Turnhout: Brepols, 2018, 105â116; Stern, Samuel M., âÊ¿Abd al-JabbÄrâs account of how Christâs religion was falsified by the adoption of Roman customs,â Journal of theological studies, N.S. 19/1 (1968), 128â185; Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 247â249.
Cited in Roncaglia, âEbionite and Elkesaite elementsâ 349. For other evidence, see Crone, âJewish Christianity (part two)â 1â3.
Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 245.
These are identified by Crone as: a) Jesus is a prophet sent to the Israelites; b) Christians are Israelites too; c) Jesus is second to Moses and confirms the Torah/law rather than supplants it; d) Jesus was a human being, not God incarnate; e) Muḥammadâs opponents held that both Mary and Jesus are divine; f) docetic crucifixion, though Jesusâ death is otherwise accepted; g) virgin birth of Jesus. Some of the points are not as strong as others, but it must be acknowledged that a-d closely resemble the beliefs that we know different Jewish Christian groups were espousing.
Crone, âJewish Christianity (part one)â 229.
Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 77, notes that, post-Chalcedon, âall of the major competing and rival churchesâ agreed upon the trinity and incarnation.
Segovia, âAbrahaâs Christological formula.â
Sigla DAI GDN 2002â2020, dated to 548â¯CE, and Ry 506, dated to 552â¯CE.
See also Stroumsa, The making of the Abrahamic religions 97, 154. The pseudo-Clementine Homilies 16.7.9, has, moreover, an interesting formulation on God: âGod is one, and there is no God but Him.â This is very similar to those found in the QurʾÄn.
Religious studies scholars working with modern âlivedâ or âvernacularâ religion take diversity and variation in, as well as indifference toward, doctrine and practice as natural and given. There is nothing to suggest that such a situation did not obtain in the pre-modern era as well. In chapter 3, I noted that according to the 2020 State of Theology survey (
Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 235.
Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 226â229, 256.
Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 247â249.
Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 252.
Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 78, 251â252, gives the example of Jacob of Edessa (d. 708) as disapproving of some members of his churches who were following the Jewish law (however they understood it); and the East Syrian patriarch Timothy I (d. 823) discussed the question of whether a âhereticâ joining the Church of the East can be rebaptized. Among the categories of heretics that he mentions are those who believed that Jesus was a human and rejected his divinity. This points toward the possibility that there were, before and after Islam, Christians who held low Christological beliefs.
See Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 307â308, for narratives, in Arabic literature written by Muslims, of Muslims who did not know a single verse of the QurʾÄn.
See, in particular, Rambo, Lewis R., Understanding religious conversion, New Haven CT: Yale University, 1993.
Rambo, Understanding religious conversion 170â171.
There was naturally a diversity of opinion on the miaphysite-dyaphysite continuum among the clergy and, one assumes, even more so among the laity (if they cared about such matters to begin with). In any case, many churches around Arabia were non-Chalcedonian in their orientation (miaphysite or East Syrian).
Or no less Jewish than Jesus or Paul.
Such dual identifications have been noticed among modern-day believers by scholars. According to one poll, 6â¯% of Americans state that they belong to more than one religion (
See also Lindstedt, âOne community,â where it is suggested that the believer affiliation represented a superordinate identity which accepted sub-identities as Jewish, Christian, or gentile. A similar phenomenon has been suggested for early Christianity; see, e.g., studies by Esler, Galatians, and Conflict and identity, in which it is suggested that Paul envisioned the early Jesus group as comprising Jewish Christ-believers and gentile Christ-believers; Christ-believerness was a superordinate identity in which the Jews and others did not have to forsake their Jewishness or other ethnic identity.
See also the texts written by Jews and Christians discussed in the next two chapters.
Dye, âMapping the sources of the Qurʾanic Jesusâ 154â156, has rightly called the portrayal of Jesus paradoxical.
See, e.g., Shoemaker, A prophet has appeared 214. In Luke 16:16, Jesus is depicted as saying: âThe law and the prophets were in effect until John came,â which was quoted in late antique Christian discourse to suggest that prophecy does not continue.
See Crone, Patricia, The nativist prophets of early Islamic Iran: Rural revolt and local Zoroastrianism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012, 281â301; Stroumsa, The making of the Abrahamic religions 59â71, 87â99.
Stroumsa, The making of the Abrahamic religions 96â97.
Stroumsa, The making of the Abrahamic religions 164.
Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 478â479.
See, e.g., Reynolds, Allah 36â40.
For instance, the Didascalia refers to Jesusâ message as well as the narratives about him as âthe Gospelâ (ʾwnglywn), in the singular; Zellentin, ââ¯âOne letter yudââ¯â 241.
Crawford, Matthew R., âDiatessaron, a misnomer? The evidence from Ephremâs commentary,â in Early Christianity 4 (2013), 362â385.
Wood, Philip, âSyriac and the âSyrians,ââ¯â in Scott F. Johnson (ed.), The Oxford handbook of late antiquity, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012, 170â194, at 174. Note, though, that the work was banned by some bishops; Wood, âSyriacâ 182.
This is emphasized in Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 3, 26â34, noting that there are a number of instances in literary texts that bewail the fact that even the priests could not read or did not know the contents of the Bible. As Tannous notes on p. 21: âEven if we were to assume that there were well-trained, highly literate and informed clergy in urban and rural areas alike throughout the Middle East, we would nevertheless have to consider the question of whether people actually went to church and what, if anything, they got out of their attendance. But levels of church attendance in our period are impossible to gauge. And, if we suppose they were high, frequent complaints about congregantsâ misbehaviorâdoing everything from making business transactions, to talking during the service, to gawking at women, to shoving and kicking as they lined up to take the Eucharistâshould give us pause before assuming any kind of correlation between church attendance and levels of Christian knowledge or seriousness of engagement with Christianity.â
Al-AÊ¿shÄ, DÄ«wÄn 135â137 (no. 17). This poem should be compared with al-AÊ¿shÄ, DÄ«wÄn 329â331 (no. 66), which also contains monotheist beliefs.
Al-AÊ¿shÄ, DÄ«wÄn 137.
Shahîd, Byzantium and the Arabs in the sixth century, ii/1 275â277.
The implied reader/hearer is clearly male in the verses.
Al-AÊ¿shÄ, DÄ«wÄn 137.
E.g., Friedmann, Yohanan, Tolerance and coercion in Islam: Interfaith relations in the Muslim tradition, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003, 33â34. For a different view, see, e.g., Donner, âFrom believers to Muslimsâ 14â16.
Sirry, Scriptural polemics 65â99. As Sirry notes, in modern Muslim exegesis the hegemonic understanding of these verses has been questioned. See also Lamptey, Never wholly other 26â35.
Somewhat similarly, see Esack, QurʾÄn, liberation & pluralism 126â134; Sachedina, The Islamic roots 38â39. El-Badawi, The QurʾÄn and the Aramaic gospel traditions, 59â60, 66â74, on the other hand, derives the Arabic al-islÄm from Syriac mashlmÄnÅ«tÄ, âtradition,â here to be understood as âprophetic tradition.â
All âyouâ pronouns are plural here.
Sirry, Scriptural polemics 65â99.
This is indeed how some classical exegetes understand this as well: see, e.g., the view of al-ṬabarÄ«, JÄmiÊ¿, viii 84, who explains that in verse 5:3 the phrase al-islÄm dÄ«nan means âsubmission to My [Godâs] command, holding onto My obedience, according to what I have decreed of limits and ordinances.â He then doubles down and paraphrases dÄ«nan as á¹ÄÊ¿atan minkum lÄ«, âin your obedience toward Me.â Clearly, al-ṬabarÄ«âs understanding of dÄ«n relates the word to the law, and al-islÄm does not refer to the name of a religion, but to obedience toward God and the law. Compare my treatment of the word al-islÄm with Baneth, David H., âWhat did Muḥammad mean when he called his religion âIslamâ? The original meaning of aslama and its derivatives,â in IOS 1 (1971), 183â190; Cole, Juan, âParadosis and monotheism: A late antique approach to the meaning of islÄm in the Quran,â in BSOAS 82/3 (2019), 405â425. Bravmann, The spiritual background 8, basing the interpretation on Arabic poetry, suggests that the original meaning of al-islÄm was âdefiance of death, self-sacrifice (for the sake of God and his prophet).â But the examples from poetry are of dubious authenticity (stemming, for example, from the work of Ibn HishÄm). Moreover, the interpretation of aslama (elliptically for aslama nafsahu) as âdefy deathâ or âgive up oneâs lifeâ might fit some poems but, in my opinion, does not really fit the QurʾÄnic prooftexts; Bravmann, The spiritual background 7â26.
Classical exegesis often supplies the plural to the reading of the text; see, e.g., al-Bayá¸ÄwÄ«, AnwÄr al-tanzÄ«l wa-asrÄr al-taʾwÄ«l, 2 vols., i, Beirut: DÄr al-Kutub al-Ê¿IlmÄ«yah, 2008, 255, who suggests that QurʾÄn 5:3 means that God has chosen Islam as the religion âover all other faithsâ (Ê¿alÄ al-adyÄn kullihÄ). The goal of these pre-modern exegetes was to solidify the hegemonic understanding of Islam as the best (indeed, the only authentic) religion.
For a detailed treatment of these words, see Donner, âDÄ«n.â My understanding of Q 3:19, 3:85, and 5:3 differs from his, however. According to Donner, these verses evidence the name of the religion, Islam, in the reified sense, and hence could and should be considered later interpolations. In my interpretation, al-islÄm signified âobedienceâ throughout in the QurʾÄn.
For an attempt to understand the redaction history of Q 5:3â5, see Sinai, âProcesses of literary growthâ 87â88. For another discussion of Q 5:3, see Donner, âDÄ«nâ 133â134, who argues that the passage âToday I have perfected (akmaltu) your dÄ«n for you, completed (atmamtu) My blessing upon you, and favored (raá¸Ä«tu) al-islÄm dÄ«nan for youâ is out of place. But Donner understands the phrase al-islÄm dÄ«nan in the conventional fashion (âfavored for you Islam as religionâ), which I do not think is warranted.
See Zellentin, Holger M., Law beyond Israel: From the Bible to the Qurʾan, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2022, 35â128.
Wright, William, A grammar of the Arabic language, 2 vols., ii, Cambridge: The University Press, 31896â1898 (rev. ed.), 122.
Though I might be stating the obvious, the preposition + suffix lakum is connected with the verb raá¸Ä«tu and not, for example, al-islÄm.
Sinai, âProcesses of literary growthâ 79â84.
Sinai, âProcesses of literary growthâ 80.
See
See also Amir-Moezzi and Dye (eds.), Le Coran des historiens, ii a 154: âLes termes islÄm et dÄ«n au v. [3:]85 ne doivent pas être interprétés comme une référence à une âreligionâ spécifique, puisque dÄ«n peut aussi signifier âjugementâ (voir par exemple Q 1:4) et islÄm âconformitéâ à , et donc âacceptation deâ, la volonté divine.â
The way out of this would be, perhaps, to note that while al-dÄ«n cannot be rendered as âreligionâ in the modern (and possibly Protestant Christian) sense of the word, it could be understood as âlaw and religion,â combined. In German, for instance, the combination Rechtsreligion is sometimes used, though, I should note, the term and usage are pejorative (which I do not intend when translating the QurʾÄnic al-dÄ«n as âthe lawâ).
For a somewhat similar verse, where one must understand the nominal sentence as meaning âis likeâ or âis tantamount to,â see Q 9:28, which states literally that âthe associators are filthâ (innamÄ al-mushrikÅ«n najas).
As Sirry, Scriptural polemics 98, notes: âEven the word âal-dÄ«nâ is never used in the QurʾÄn in its plural form, adyÄn, which indicates that religious life at the time was not yet fully reified.â This has also been noted by Esack, QurʾÄn, liberation & pluralism 145. However, both authors understand al-dÄ«n primarily as âreligion.â
Here, I understand the accusative millata as the âmotive and object of the agent in doing the act, the cause or reason of his doing it,â Wright, A grammar, ii 121. As elsewhere in the QurʾÄn, I argue that the word milla should be understood as Abrahamâs word/promise of faithfulness and obedience toward God.
See, e.g., the following (Meccan) verses: Q 10:105: âDirect yourself toward the law (dÄ«n) as a gentile (ḥanÄ«fan)â; Q 16:123: âWe revealed to you, âFollow the milla of Abraham as a ḥanÄ«f. He was not an associatorââ¯â; Q 30:30: âDirect yourself toward the law (dÄ«n) as a gentile (ḥanÄ«fan) according to the disposition (fiá¹rat) of God that He has created.â
Zellentin, The QurʾÄnâs legal culture; âJudaeo-Christian legal cultureâ, and Law beyond Israel. See also Bar-Asher, Jews and the Qurʾan 88â107, for a comparison of the QurʾÄnic law and Jewish law. He notes (p. 101): âApart from the fact that Islam and Judaism share dietary prohibitions regarding certain animals, their resemblance in this area is minimal. The dietary laws of Islamâat least in the stratum reflected in the Qurʾanâare simple and few in number.â However, Bar-Asher does not notice that the QurʾÄnic dietary law follows the Jewish (and early Christian) conceptions of the food and purity regulations that the gentiles are expected to follow.
Zellentin, âJudaeo-Christian legal cultureâ 131, 136â137.
Zellentin, âJudaeo-Christian legal cultureâ 155, suggests that the QurʾÄn is more in dialogue with Leviticus than with late antique Christian literature.
These passages are dealt with in Zellentin, âJudaeo-Christian legal cultureâ 149â158.
Though blanket prohibition of wine (and more generally alcohol) is nowadays associated with Islam, this does not represent the diversity of opinions and practices among medieval Muslims (or modern ones, for that matter); Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 278â287.
Cf. Sinai, âProcesses of literary growthâ 85â89, who suggests that Q 5:5 could be understood as abrogating the pork taboo of Q 5:3. However, Sinai does not address the fact that (the majority of) the Jews would not have eaten pork, so his reasoning is difficult to follow here, supposing that these verses were revealed in Medina; Medina had a sizeable Jewish population; and that the QurʾÄnic references to the People of the Book (such as in Q 5:5) also included the Jews.
See also Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 351, for later Muslim views that Jewish and Christian meat was fine, whereas Zoroastrian meat was not.
Sinai, âTowards a redactional history,â 383, understands QÂ 5:90â93 as supplementing and commenting on QÂ 5:3.
Note also the avoidance of wine in a supposedly pre-Islamic poem by a certain Ê¿Ämir al-Khaá¹£afÄ« from the tribe of MuḥÄrib; he and his tribe appear to have been Christian. In the poem, the poet addresses his tribeâs enemy, saying that they had wrongfully waged war. Moreover: âAnd we were not with you at your debauch, when ye drank down (khamrakum idh sharibtum), bereft of reasonâby God!âan ill-omened draughtâ; al-Mufaá¸á¸al, Mufaá¸á¸alÄ«yÄt, i 625, trans. ii 258. Have we here an example of a pre-Islamic Arabic-speaking Christian person who eschewed wine (or at least pagan wine)?
al-FÄ«rÅ«zÄbÄdÄ«, Al-QÄmÅ«s al-Muḥīá¹, 4 vols., ii, Cairo: Muʾassasat al-ḤalabÄ«, n.d. 163.
See the explanation given by the editor, Lyall, in al-Mufaá¸á¸al, Mufaá¸á¸alÄ«yÄt, ii 28, who notes that the game was âplayed with arrows by seven players for portions of a slaughtered camel (or camels, for the rules of the game frequently involved the slaughter and cutting-up of successive victims). The arrows, ten in number, of which only seven carried shares in the stakes and three were blanks, bore different names, and were marked with notches denoting their value. They were shuffled in a leathern quiver, and the shuffler and dealer (mufīḠal-qidÄḥ), having it in his power to influence the throw.â
Al-Mufaá¸á¸al, Mufaá¸á¸alÄ«yÄt, ii 337 (trans. Lyall).
In this connection, it should be noted that the late antique Christian sources are also fixated on the idea that the Arabians ate unclean meat and worshipped idols, though this appears to have been a literary motif first and foremost; Fisher et al., âArabs and Christianityâ 297, 302.
Hence, not âThere is no compulsion in religion,â as is commonly translated (and indeed understood in medieval interpretative tradition, see Crone, Patricia, Godâs rule: Government and Islam, New York: Columbia University Press, 2004, 373â382).
The QurʾÄnic word á¹ÄghÅ«t appears to be derived from the (Western Palestinian) Aramaic á¹ÄÊ¿Å«thÄ or Ethiopic á¹ÄÊ¿ot, both meaning âidol;â see Kropp, âBeyond single wordsâ 209. Once again, as in many other religious concepts that the QurʾÄn uses, the connection with the surrounding Christian cultures is clear, though the exact process and manner of derivation is not known.
See the detailed discussion in Zellentin, The QurʾÄnâs legal culture 86â105, with references to rabbinic literature as well.
Zellentin, The QurʾÄnâs legal culture 81, notes: âthe entirety of the enhanced Judaeo-Christian lawcode that we find in the QurʾÄnâincluding the prohibition of pork, and the injunction to wash after intercourse and before prayer, as well as abstinence during the mensesâwas equally endorsed by Judaeo-Christians within the Didascaliaâs community, as well as by the gentile followers of Jesus in the Clementine Homilies.â See also Zellentin, Law beyond Israel, 118, n. 191: âI do not share the assumption of many previous scholars that all Christians must surely have eaten pork, which seems to be the major point of contention when trying to contextualize this verse [5:5]. Such an assumption does not square with the patristic records about Arabian practices, which, in the aforementioned case of Sozomen, discuss the conversion of Arabians to Christianity without mentioning any changes in their custom of avoiding pork.â
I adopt the expression from Fredriksen, Paul 73.
Maxwell, âPaganismâ 854â856; Stroumsa, The making of the Abrahamic religions 23â41. Safaitic inscriptions, written by ancient (for the most part âpaganâ and nomadic) people living in Jordan and Syria, already contain references to ritual cleansing and purity; see al-Jallad, The religion and rituals 44â46.
Compare this with the situation in the late antique Byzantine empire where, as Maxwell, âPaganismâ 856, notes, there was a small difference between a âpaganâ meat-centered feast and a âChristianâ one.
In Arabic, this is rijÄl, which is indeed gendered. This is related to the more general QurʾÄnic androcentric style, see Hidayatullah, Feminist edges, 119â121, though, in fact, the QurʾÄn often uses gender neutral words such as al-nÄs to refer to humankind (notwithstanding the fact that some translators of the QurʾÄn render these words in a gendered way).
Q 35 is Mecca III, while Q 9 is Medinan, according to Nöldekeâs scheme. For repentance in the QurʾÄn, see also el-Badawi, The QurʾÄn and the Aramaic gospel traditions 99â100.
The conjunction âorâ is peculiar here, since one would expect these two things (the eschaton and the punishment) to be interrelated events. But aw rather than wa appears in all early manuscripts available at
Also, Costa, âEarly Islam as a messianic movementâ 47.
Fredriksen, When Christians were Jews 131.
Shoemaker, The apocalypse of empire 131.
On this question and the later interpretive tradition, see the rich discussion in Reynolds, Allah 66â88, 135â154.
As I have pointed out in this book, the gentile monotheists and henotheists of western Arabia appear to have been skeptical of the final judgment and afterlife.
That the ârewardâ (ajr) mentioned in these verses is of the paradisal sort is clear from other QurʾÄnic passages, such as 18:30â31, which explicitly elaborate that the reward signifies paradise. See also Donner, âFrom believers to Muslimsâ 19.
See Sachedina, âThe QurʾÄn and other religions,â 297â305, for later developments in the Islamic interpretive tradition toward supersession and exclusive understandings of the afterlife. Note in particular p. 301: âin the sectarian milieu of seventh-century Arabia early Muslims encountered competing claims to authentic religiosity as posed by other monotheists like the Christians and Jews. This encounter, which produced extended interreligious polemics, led to the notion of the independent status of Islam as a unique and perfect version of the original Abrahamic monotheism.â This is to the point, although I would add that this exclusivist discourse should perhaps be better placed in the eighth than the seventh century CE.
The verse is significantly longer and different in content than the verses before and after it; Nöldeke, Geschichte des Qorâns i 88.
Jewish and Christian scholars of the ancient and late ancient world sometimes opined that the people of the other faiths will receive at least a portion of the eschatological reward. Some of these scholars were of the opinion that the âothersâ would convert (whatever that might mean in context); others remarked that a full conversion would not be required. For examples in Second Temple Judaism (including the Jesus group), see Fredriksen, Paul 5â7, 26â31, 73â77, 160â164.
Reynolds, Allah 149. That the Second Council of Constantinople had to take issue with this stance shows that it was debated and, in all likelihood, embraced by some Christians.
See, e.g., Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra 334: though a Medinan Jew is first to spot Muḥammad when he is doing his emigration from Mecca to Medina, the former is quoted as having made a distinction between the Jews and those who expect Muḥammad (the Khazraj and Aws). For an insightful study on the narratives on Jewish-Muslim (often hostile) interactions in the Medinan era, see Roohi, âThe murder of the Jewish chieftain,â who argues that many of the stories belong to the stuff of fantasy.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra 383â384, 388â389; Bar-Asher, Jews and the Qurʾan 16.
See Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 438â439.
Ibrahim, Conversion to Islam 70â71.
The case of Ubayy ibn KaÊ¿b is discussed in Ibrahim, Conversion to Islam 136â137.
Implausible, that is, if MukhayrÄ«q represents an actual historical figure. On MukhayrÄ«q and his religious identity, see also Roohi, âThe murder of the Jewish chieftainâ 10â12.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra 578, trans. Guillaume 384; the story is also in al-WÄqidÄ«, al-MaghÄzÄ« 262â263, trans. Faizer Rizvi (ed.), The life of Muḥammad: Al-WÄqidÄ«âs KitÄb al-MaghÄzÄ«, trans. Rizvi Faizer, Amal Ismail and Abdulkader Tayob, London: Routledge, 2013, 128.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra 653.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra 734.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra 717, trans. Guillaume 484.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra, 716 trans. Guillaume 484.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra 347.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra 401â403. On this, see also Ibrahim, Conversion to Islam 152â153.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra 403â410.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra 403.
Ibn HishÄm, SÄ«ra 402. As we will see in chapters 7 and 8, there is extensive evidence of Jews, Christians, and Arabian gentile believers sharing a place of prayer.
Stark, Rodney, âWhy religious movements succeed or fail: A revised general model,â in Journal of Contemporary Religion 11 (1996), 133â146, at 136, has noted that new religious movements are more likely to succeed if they âretain cultural continuity with conventional faith(s) of the societies in which they seek convertsâ (emphasis in the original).
Rather surprisingly, Tannous, The making of the medieval Middle East 394â396, disagrees with this idea, though the evidence mustered in his book seems to me to support it rather than disprove it. The disagreement appears to be the result of the insistence, on the part of Tannous, on treating social categories such as âChristianâ and âMuslimâ as clear and stable, though the categories might themselves include a variety of different people, with their manifold beliefs, praxes, and ideas. However, I have argued in this book that the social categories should also be analyzed and problematized.
Pace, for example, Bar-Asher, Jews and the Qurʾan who suggests that Islam and Judaism parted ways during the Medinan period.
Donner, âFrom believers to Muslimsâ 49.
Lindstedt, ââ¯âOne communityââ¯â 367â368.
After his life, we have some texts that seem to be produced by such members of the community of the believers, as I discuss in the following chapters.
This is also suggested by texts written by Jews and Christians themselves after the life of Muḥammad; see chapters 7 and 8.
Pace Shoemaker, The apocalypse of empire. The only possible references I can see to such a notion in the QurʾÄn are verses 30:2â5, but this does not suffice as evidence for the more general âconquest eschatologicalâ outlook of the community.
Following Shoemaker, The death of a prophet 178â188, 195â198. It should be noted that the eschatological outlook of the early community did not die out with the first generation but continued strong throughout the first/seventh century and (in a more muted form) later. See, e.g., Cook, David, Studies in Muslim apocalyptic, Princeton NJ: Darwin Press, 2002; Lindstedt, âThe last Roman emperor.â