Gold or Silver? Rethinking Niṣāb for Zakāh in the Light of Fiqh, Justice, and Modern Economics

Niṣāb for Zakāh

Question:
Recently, I wrote an article in Urdu arguing that gold, rather than silver, should be adopted as the standard for determining niṣāb in zakāh. In response, the well-known Qur’an teacher, Dr Farhat Hashmi, forwarded the following question to me:

Piyari Ustazah ji The reply by esteemed sheikh in itself is very pragmatic and full of Hikmat الحمد لله Two humble questions here: 1) The government always announces nisaab each year on the basis of silver (not gold). The consequent deductions through banks are calculated according to the same nisaab. 2) If gold is made the basis for nisaab then a large amount of zakat contributors will be exempted. On the other hand the number of fuqara and masakeen and other zakat applicable persons and factors is increasing day by day. How will the gap be bridged?

Answer:
The questions raised touch upon an important intersection of fiqh, public policy and social justice, and therefore need to be addressed with clarity and balance.Click Here To Follow Our WhatsApp Channel

With regard to the first point, when a Muslim government officially announces a niṣāb and organises the collection of zakāh through institutional means, such as bank deductions, this falls under the sphere of siyāsah sharʿiyyah (administrative authority exercised for public order). Once such a mechanism is in place, individuals are not entitled to interfere with, obstruct or invalidate that collection, even if they personally hold a different juristic opinion. Compliance in practice is therefore required in order to preserve order and avoid chaos. At the same time, this does not mean that scholarly discussion is closed. Scholars and concerned citizens may, and indeed should, convey well-reasoned and sincere advice to the authorities, explaining the fiqhi implications and possible long-term consequences of adopting one standard over another. Obedience in implementation and advice in counsel are two separate matters, and both have their proper place in the Sharīʿah.

As for the second issue, it is essential to recall the foundational principle upon which zakāh is built. Zakāh is not meant to be taken from the poor and redistributed among the poor; rather, it is taken from the rich and given to the poor. This is clearly established in the well-known ḥadīth in which the Prophet ﷺ instructed that zakāh is taken from the wealthy of a community and returned to its needy. The objective of zakāh, therefore, is not merely the circulation of money, but the transfer of surplus wealth from those who can afford it to those who cannot.

When silver is adopted as the universal standard for niṣāb in the modern economic context, the monetary threshold becomes extremely low due to the drastic decline in the value of silver. As a result, many people who are themselves financially strained, struggling with inflation and rising living costs, and barely meeting their basic needs, are classified as zakāh payers. In reality, such individuals are closer to being deserving recipients than obligated contributors. Making them pay zakāh reduces their already limited resources and, instead of alleviating hardship, risks entrenching it further. In this way, the very mechanism intended to ease poverty can inadvertently contribute to its growth.

It is also important to correct a common misconception: the belief that the zakāh system is meant to eradicate poverty entirely. This was never its sole purpose. Even during the time of the Khulafā’ al-Rāshidūn, when justice and piety were at their height, poor people still existed. Zakāh did not eliminate poverty, but it did ease its burden, prevent desperation, and preserve human dignity. Its role is remedial and protective, not utopian.

The persistence of poverty in many Muslim societies today is therefore not primarily a failure of the zakāh system itself, but of its implementation and the broader economic environment. A major problem is that many wealthy individuals do not pay their zakāh correctly, honestly or consistently. Others treat zakāh as the maximum of their responsibility rather than its minimum. Furthermore, zakāh alone cannot compensate for weak economic policies, lack of employment opportunities and the absence of sustainable projects that enable the poor to earn a living with dignity.

Islam does not place the entire burden of social welfare on zakāh alone. When zakāh proves insufficient, voluntary charity becomes a moral and religious necessity. The Prophet ﷺ explicitly stated that there is a right in wealth beyond zakāh. This principle becomes especially relevant when need persists despite the fulfilment of obligatory dues. Alongside this, governments bear a clear responsibility to adopt sound economic policies, invest in projects that generate employment and empower the poor to become self-sufficient rather than perpetually dependent.

In conclusion, where the government collects zakāh on the basis of a particular niṣāb, that collection should not be obstructed, even if one holds a different scholarly view. At the same time, it is both legitimate and necessary to convey thoughtful advice to policymakers. Using silver as a universal standard in the present context risks shifting the burden of zakāh onto those who are not truly wealthy, contrary to the spirit of the Sharīʿah. Zakāh lightens poverty but does not abolish it; honest payment by the rich, generous voluntary charity, and just economic policies together are what truly uphold social balance.

May Allah grant us understanding rooted in wisdom, justice tempered with mercy, and the ability to fulfil the rights of wealth in a manner that brings relief rather than hardship. آمين

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Islam and Freedom of Religion: A Muslim Perspective on Human Rights and Non-Coercion

Islam and Freedom

Question:
السلام عليكم ورحمة الله وبركاته
I have been asked to write a piece for my local university press & I am confused. I would really appreciate some guidance.
They are asking me what a Muslims stance is on “freedom of religion as a human right
It’s a short 200 words. Imo it’s a good way to spread dawah because I can touch on the fact, contrary to belief there is no compulsion in religion. We can’t force people to become Muslim, we can ask.
Also the paper is for a humanitarian organisation called amnesty, who help people from Palestine to Ukraine. They report on human rights abuses, would I be able to work with them on this even though they are not an organisation that represents islam as such, but they do stand up for Muslims?
I’m not saying all religions are right, I’m going to say that under Islamic rule, people are free to practice what they believe in without fear of persecution. It is a human right in the eyes of a Muslim.
A sister was saying it’s an aqeedah issue and I can’t write this, but islam does protect any human life regardless of what religion there are? If they agree to live under a “Khalifa” or Muslim ruler they will even be protected as far as I know?
There is a fatwa by shaykh ibn Baz in which he says: “islam does not permit freedom in matters of creed. It does not make people free to choose which ever religion they wish”
But this fatwa doesn’t related to the question does it?
So my final question is, can I write a 200 word paragraph on “freedom of religion IS a human right & islam does not allow any human being to be persecuted based off religion”Click Here To Follow Our WhatsApp Channel
Q = would this be touching on any aqeedah issues and is it wrong to work with a human rights organisation that’s not Muslim based
Please do clarify, I would greatly appreciate it.

Answer:
Wa ʿalaykum as-salām wa raḥmatullāhi wa barakātuh.
The question you raise pertains to an area in which Islamic legal theory and theological discourse are frequently misunderstood, particularly when framed within contemporary human rights language. It is essential to distinguish between two domains: the inviolable personal freedom of belief, and the state’s prerogative to regulate public order and prevent sedition or societal harm.

At the level of individual conscience, Islam unequivocally affirms freedom of religion. The Qur’ān declares, “There is no compulsion in religion” (2:256), a verse understood by classical exegetes to articulate a foundational maxim: genuine faith arises from conviction rather than coercion. Throughout Islamic history, non-Muslim communities, including Jews, Christians, and others, were permitted to adhere to their faiths, preserve their religious institutions, and administer personal status matters according to their own laws. This historical precedent demonstrates that Islam does not oblige non-Muslims to convert, nor does it sanction their persecution on account of belief.

Limitations within Islamic governance pertain not to belief itself, but to conduct that threatens communal stability or constitutes rebellion, categories regulated by virtually every legal system. Such considerations fall within the purview of statecraft and public interest (maslahah), not doctrinal compulsion. Hence, the fatwā you cited concerns theological consistency within the Islamic creed rather than the civil question of protecting religious freedom as a right.

Consequently, it is both accurate and legitimate to assert that Islam recognises freedom of religion and safeguards individuals from coercion. Articulating this principle in a public or humanitarian context does not compromise ʿaqīdah, provided one does not claim all religions are theologically equal, but rather that individuals possess the freedom to choose, and that persecution on the basis of belief is rejected.

Cooperating with non-Muslim organisations in areas that align with universal ethical concerns, such as protection of life, humanitarian relief, and the defence of civil rights, falls under the recognised Islamic principle of taʿāwun ʿalā al-birr, cooperation in righteousness. The Prophet ﷺ himself entered into cooperative pacts with non-Muslims in matters of justice and social welfare. Hence, engagement with such organisations is permissible when it serves noble aims and does not entail compromising Islamic doctrine.

In conclusion, the assertion that Islam upholds freedom of religion as a human right, prohibits coercion in matters of faith, and supports the protection of minority rights, is consistent with both Islamic legal tradition and the objectives of Sharīʿah. Writing on this subject, particularly to clarify misconceptions and promote justice, does not infringe upon ʿaqīdah.

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Returning to the Dīn: How True Faith Leads to Self-Knowledge and Nearness to Allah

Qur’ān and Sunnah

Question:
My student, Abu Hanifah Dilawar, forwarded to me the following question:
Assalāmu ʿalaykum wa raḥmatullāhi wa barakātuhu, Shaykh. This is a question from a Bangladeshi reader of the Bangla Facebook page who regularly reads your articles. They wrote: “I could not help but comment. I read the articles on this page almost regularly. Alḥamdulillāh, such beautiful writing—every single word reflects the depth of knowledge. SubḥānAllāh, these are not words that merely pass the lips; they penetrate deep into the heart, enriching my understanding and helping me recognise myself and the world anew. Alḥamdulillāh. May Allah ﷻ grant you the best reward. Āmīn.
I do not know whether my question will reach you, but I will ask it nonetheless: When a person truly returns to the Dīn, what should they actually do in order to know themselves completely?”

Answer:
Wa ʿalaykum as-salām wa raḥmatullāhi wa barakātuhu.

The question raised by the respected reader is sincere and deeply meaningful, because in Islam the matter of “knowing oneself” is directly connected to knowing one’s Lord and understanding the purpose for which one was created.Click Here To Follow Our WhatsApp Channel

It must first be made clear that a person who is born to Muslim parents is a Muslim by default. Such a person remains within Islam unless they knowingly and openly declare disbelief or commit an act that takes them out of the fold of Islam. Islam is not lost due to weakness, sin, confusion, or periods of neglect. Therefore, many people who speak of “returning to Islam” are in reality returning to practising Islam more consciously and sincerely, not re-entering it from outside.

If, however, a person had clearly left Islam and then wishes to return, then the door of Allah’s mercy is always open. Their return begins with sincerely declaring the Shahādah: that there is no god worthy of worship except Allah, and that Muḥammad ﷺ is the Messenger of Allah. With this declaration, all that came before is wiped away by Allah’s mercy.

Whether one is born Muslim, returning to Islam, or newly embracing Islam, the obligation thereafter is the same. Every Muslim is required to worship Allah alone according to the way taught by the Prophet Muḥammad ﷺ. There is no separate path for converts and no special category for those who “returned”; there is only submission to Allah upon guidance.

To truly return to the Dīn and to begin knowing oneself, a person must first recognise their reality: that they are a servant of Allah, created, weak, dependent, and in constant need of their Lord. True self-knowledge does not lead to pride or self-admiration, but to humility, repentance, and awareness of one’s limitations. The one who knows himself realises how much he needs Allah at every moment.

The foundation of this return is the establishment of worship, beginning with the obligatory acts. The five daily prayers, fasting in Ramaḍān, zakāh when applicable, and ḥajj for those who are able are not optional spiritual exercises; they are the pillars upon which the heart and soul are built. Without these, claims of inner transformation remain fragile and incomplete.

Alongside this, the Muslim must learn the Qur’an, recite it, understand its meanings, reflect upon its verses, and strive to act upon it. The Qur’an is not merely a book of blessing or recitation; it is the primary means through which a believer comes to understand himself, his flaws, his responsibilities, and his destination. Through the Qur’an, Allah speaks directly to the heart of the servant, guiding, correcting, and nurturing it.

Equally essential is learning the Sunnah of the Prophet ﷺ and striving to follow him in belief, worship, character, and conduct. The Prophet ﷺ is the living example of what submission to Allah looks like in practice. Without his guidance, a person may worship with sincerity yet fall into error. Following the Sunnah brings balance, depth, and clarity to one’s religion, and draws the believer closer to Allah in a sound and protected manner.

As a person progresses upon this path, they must guard themselves against seeking validation from others regarding the quality of their īmān or the depth of their spirituality. No scholar, teacher, or community can truly assess the state of a person’s heart. The reality of one’s faith is known only to Allah ﷻ. Even the most righteous of the early Muslims feared hypocrisy for themselves, despite their great deeds.

Therefore, the believer continues upon the path of worship with both fear and hope: fear of Allah’s justice and accountability, and hope in His vast mercy and forgiveness. A Muslim does not claim certainty of acceptance in this life, nor do they despair of Allah’s mercy because of their shortcomings. They continue worshipping Allah, repenting sincerely, and striving to improve until death comes to them.

In this way, returning to the Dīn is not a single event but a lifelong journey of returning to Allah again and again. Whoever persists upon worship, learning, reflection, and humility has already begun to know himself in the truest and most beneficial sense.

May Allah ﷻ keep our hearts firm upon His religion, increase us in knowledge and sincerity, and grant us a good ending. Āmīn.

Winter Student Retreat Explores Reason, Revelation, and Islamic Intellectual Renewal

Arabic Students

From 11 to 14 December 2025, Al-Salam Institute held its Winter Student Retreat in Leicester. The retreat was not a routine academic programme; it brought students together in an environment of focused reflection and serious inquiry into one of the most urgent issues facing Islamic thought today. These students came not only from across the United Kingdom but also from the United States, Canada, Australia, and other countries. They brought with them thoughtful questions and a deep-seated eagerness to learn.Click Here To Follow Our WhatsApp Channel

The faculty of Al-Salam Institute led sessions on various subjects. They offered academic training, engaged students in meaningful dialogue, and conducted the samāʿ of al-Muwaṭṭaʾ of Imām Mālik (in the narration of Qaʿnabī). This reminded us that our intellectual heritage is not just a collection of preserved texts but a living tradition, transmitted through oral narration.

I contributed to the retreat by teaching Sūrat al-Fatḥ and selected passages from Madārij al-Sālikīn by Ibn al-Qayyim. In addition to the teaching sessions, I delivered several talks. One of these addressed the relationship between fiṭrah (human nature), ʿaql (reason), and dīn (religion). I emphasised that the foundation of Islam does not rest on a faith that disables the intellect. Rather, the Qur’an calls for a kind of faith that depends on the awakening of reason, the clarity of understanding, and the responsible exercise of human consciousness.

I made clear that reason does not oppose human nature or divine revelation. Nature, reason, and religion all issue from the same divine origin. Each flows in its own course but leads the human being to the same essential truth.

During the session, one of the students raised an important question: Why do traditional religious institutions and circles often express anxiety, or even aversion, toward reason? Why does the mention of ʿaql evoke discomfort and suspicion?

I responded by saying that the problem lies not in reason itself, but in how schools of thought are treated. If we redirect the question from “Why is reason feared?” to “What is threatened by reason?”, the answer becomes immediately clear. Reason is not the enemy of religion. It cannot be, because Islam itself is founded on dalīl (evidence), ḥujjah (argument), and burhān (clear proof). The Qur’an speaks to human beings in the language of inquiry. It asks: “Do they not reflect?” “Have they not considered?” “Do they not use their intellect?”

Reason becomes threatening only when it begins to interrogate positions that lack evidentiary support. Rigid loyalties to schools of thought, which often rely on emotional attachment, inherited authority, or veneration of personalities, cannot withstand such interrogation. This is why the issue is not with reason, but with an approach to religion in which one’s school of thought becomes immune to question or critique. Reason asks questions. Questions demand answers. But the kind of religious culture built around unquestioned loyalty often lacks the intellectual resources to provide them.

Many of these rigid approaches developed precisely in contexts where the light of sound reasoning had faded. Often, the views that define one’s identity within a school of thought rest on arguments that cannot withstand even modest scrutiny. Reason, by its very nature, seeks coherence and justification. A school of thought, when it loses its openness to critique, begins to resist that very nature.

This fear of reason has deeply shaped the educational ethos of many madrasas. Students are taught that loyalty to a particular school is equivalent to loyalty to Islam itself. They learn to believe that questioning the views of established scholars is a violation of religious boundaries. But this is not the intellectual spirit we inherit from the early generations of Islam. In our scholarly tradition, the respect afforded to scholars was always conditioned by their adherence to evidence. The authority of proof never depended on the personality of the one presenting it.

Once this order is reversed, and evidence is made subordinate to personalities, reason begins to appear dangerous. To neutralise that danger, institutions erect barriers around critical thinking, discouraging students from asking precisely the questions they most need to ask.

One does not need to look far to observe this. A simple examination of the madrasa curriculum reveals the problem. The Qur’an, the central source of Islam, has been marginalised. Though it is the soul of Islam and its ultimate guidance, it is rarely taught in a way that brings light to the intellect and life to the heart. A brief and hurried commentary is no substitute for genuine Qur’anic education. That is merely a ritual.

Students are not encouraged to engage the Qur’an’s reasoning, its intellectual challenge, or its universal vision. As a result, they may read the Qur’an, but the Qur’an does not shape their thinking or their method.

The condition of hadith studies is even more troubling. The life of the Prophet ﷺ — his words, decisions, guidance, and example — becomes the subject of a rushed and mechanical review. Collections are completed within a few months, but no deep understanding of the Prophetic Sunnah emerges. No intellectual tradition anywhere in the world transmits knowledge in this way, yet here it is presented as formal instruction.

Meanwhile, disciplines such as fiqh and kalām are given a prominence that should rightly belong to the Qur’an and Sunnah. These disciplines are important tools. They are lamps, not suns. They help to illuminate, but they are not the source of light itself. When a lamp is mistaken for the sun, then darkness inevitably spreads.

This inversion leads to a more dangerous outcome. The sayings of later scholars begin to overshadow the statements of the Prophet ﷺ. These later views, often lacking strong evidence, are placed in such a sanctified zone that questioning them becomes an offence. Thus, inherited ideas are confused with the religion itself, and tradition replaces reasoned proof.

This misalignment explains much of the intellectual disquiet, confusion, and even alienation from religion that many Muslims experience today. When intelligent individuals encounter a religious discourse that cannot meet the basic demands of reason, they begin to suspect that the religion itself is irrational. But this conclusion is mistaken. The problem is not with Islam. The problem is with how Islam is being presented, filtered through inherited frameworks that were never meant to replace the primary sources.

What we need is a return: a reorientation of religious education toward the Qur’an and the Sunnah. We must teach the Qur’an with its full intellectual force and moral depth. We must present the Sunnah of the Prophet ﷺ not as a fragmented collection of reports but as a coherent and living guide. We must treat reason not as a threat but as a divine gift, an instrument given by God to recognise truth, not to avoid it.

Reason is not the enemy of revelation. It is its partner in the journey. The real threat lies in the inertia that, in the name of preserving religion, ends up stripping it of vitality. This stagnation extinguishes the Qur’an’s light, silences the Prophetic voice, and paralyses the thinking mind.

To restore the strength and relevance of Islamic tradition, we must recover the original harmony between nature, reason, and revelation. Only then can we renew our intellectual life and offer future generations an Islam that is grounded, coherent, and truly alive.

Al-Salam Institute Graduation in Leicester Celebrates Faith, Sacrifice and Sacred Knowledge

Al-Salam Institute

On the evening of 13 December 2025, the city of Leicester bore witness to a deeply moving and memorable occasion: the graduation ceremony of Al-Salam Institute for its male and female students who had successfully completed the rigorous ‘Alimiyyah programme. Conducted in an atmosphere marked by dignity, warmth, and spiritual reflection, the event brought together graduates, their families, teachers, friends, and guests attending spiritual retreats. It was far more than a formal academic gathering; it was a celebration of faith, sacrifice, perseverance, and a lifelong commitment to sacred knowledge..Click Here To Follow Our WhatsApp Channel

As the winter evening settled over the city, the hall gradually filled with anticipation and quiet joy. A palpable sense of reverence accompanied the entrance of the graduates, whose faces reflected both relief and deep gratitude after years of disciplined study, personal struggle, and spiritual growth. For many families present, this moment marked the culmination of countless sacrifices: long nights of study, early mornings, financial strain, and patient endurance. Parents watched with visible pride as their sons and daughters reached a milestone that carried not only academic significance, but profound spiritual meaning.

The teachers observed the scene with a unique blend of happiness and humility. They recognised that their role had extended far beyond instruction; they had been mentors, guides, and companions on a demanding journey. Standing before them were not merely graduates, but individuals shaped to serve their religion, their communities, and humanity at large with knowledge, character, and sincerity.

The programme featured speeches from teachers and students alike, each contributing to the richness of the occasion. The teachers shared heartfelt reflections, expressing genuine pride in the perseverance and resilience demonstrated by the students throughout their years of study. They also acknowledged the families, whose unwavering support and trust had made this journey possible. Several graduates then took to the podium, offering sincere expressions of gratitude to their teachers and parents, and candidly recalling the personal challenges they had faced along the way. Their voices, often laden with emotion, served as a powerful reminder that the ‘Alimiyyah journey is as transformative spiritually as it is intellectually.

In my own address, I reflected upon a reality that is often difficult to confront: that the pursuit of Islamic studies does not usually promise a bright or lucrative career in the modern, materialistic world. Choosing this path represents a profound sacrifice, not only for the students themselves, but also for their families, who support them despite social expectations and economic pressures. Yet this sacrifice is made purely for the sake of God, and it is precisely this sincerity that grants it immense and enduring value.

I then narrated the Qur’anic story of the mother of Maryam (peace be upon her), who vowed to her Lord that she would dedicate her child to the service of religion. Allah accepted her vow, and from that devotion emerged one of the most honoured women in history. This timeless account served as a reminder that sincere intention, dedication, and sacrifice are never lost with Allah, even when their fruits are not immediately visible in worldly terms.

To conclude, I recited a Persian poetic verse and explained its meaning to the audience:
درآں دیار کہ گوہر خریدن آئین نیست
دکاں کشودہ ام وقیمت گہر گويم
“In a land where people do not buy diamonds, I opened a shop and sold diamonds.”

I explained that Al-Salam Institute embodies this very message. In a material world where sacred knowledge is often undervalued and overlooked, the institute has continued, with quiet determination, to nurture and graduate students of religious learning. While society may not always recognise or appreciate their worth, Allah appreciates them, and His appreciation is eternal and beyond measure.
Following the formal proceedings, a communal dinner was served, allowing everyone to relax and share in the joy of the evening. The atmosphere was filled with warmth and gratitude as laughter, heartfelt conversations, and moments of quiet pride unfolded throughout the hall. Graduates celebrated with their families, teachers exchanged affectionate words with their students, and guests expressed their honour at having witnessed such a meaningful occasion.

The graduation ceremony of Al-Salam Institute was not merely an academic milestone; it was a powerful affirmation of the enduring value of faith, knowledge, and sacrifice. It was an evening that left hearts full, spirits uplifted, and a renewed sense of purpose in all who attended, an enduring reminder that even in a world that may not recognise diamonds, their true value remains unchanged.

Ruling on Women Performing Umrah While Menstruating: What If the Entire Trip Falls During the Cycle?

Hajj Training

Question:
I had a question that I wondered if you could help me with- a friend of mine is going for umrah and is likely to be on her period of the entire duration of it. Every source we’ve read online says that other than the Tawaf, she can do everything else. But that once she’s finished her period, will then need to complete tawaf. However, this won’t be possible as she’s likely to be on her period the whole time. What does that mean for her? That she won’t be able to complete umrah?Click Here To Follow Our WhatsApp Channel

Answer:
The jurists agree that ṭawāf around the Kaʿbah cannot be performed while a woman is in a state of menstruation. The Prophet ﷺ made this explicit when he told ʿĀ’ishah (ra): “Do all that the pilgrims do except the ṭawāf around the House, until you become pure.” This establishes an unambiguous rule: tawāf requires ritual purity, and without it, the tawāf is invalid. Since tawāf is a fundamental pillar of ʿumrah, the entire ʿumrah depends upon its successful completion. One may perform duʿā’, dhikr, talbiyah, and even saʿī after tawāf, but none of these substitute for the tawāf itself.

If a woman expects her menstrual cycle to finish at some point during her stay in Makkah, she may make the intention of ʿumrah and enter iḥrām with full confidence that she will be able to perform her tawāf once she becomes pure. However, if she is almost certain that she will be menstruating for the entire duration of her trip and will not have even a single day of purity in which she can complete the essential tawāf, then she should not plan to perform ʿumrah at all. Entering iḥrām with the intention of ʿumrah would place her in a binding ritual state that she cannot exit until she completes the tawāf, and she would have no lawful way of completing it. The Sharīʿah does not ask a person to enter into an act of worship that she knows she cannot complete, nor to place herself in hardship or a legally restricted state without benefit.

For this reason, the sound and precautionary scholarly position is that she should avoid travelling for ʿumrah under these circumstances. Since the defining act of ʿumrah will not be possible for her, there is no benefit in formally undertaking the ritual.

There are situations, however, where a woman may be required to travel with family, a group, or for logistical reasons that do not allow her to adjust her timing. If she must travel to Makkah, yet knows she will be menstruating throughout her stay, then she must not make the intention of ʿumrah and must not enter iḥrām at the miqāt. Instead, she should travel simply as a visitor, not as a pilgrim, and enter Makkah without the obligations associated with ritual consecration. She may attend the masjid, make duʿā’ and dhikr, accompany her group, and benefit spiritually from being in a sacred place, but she does not begin the rites of ʿumrah and does not take on the restrictions of iḥrām. This avoids the difficulty and legal complications of being in iḥrām without any opportunity to complete the worship for which iḥrām was assumed.

Understanding End-Time Hadith: Shaykh Akram Nadwi Explains How Companions Viewed Prophecies and What Lessons We Must Take Today

qiyamah

Question:
Salam Shaikh Mohammed Akram Nadwi, I hope you’re doing well, in shā’ Allāh.
For some time, I’ve been reflecting on the signs of the end times—particularly the prophecies that our beloved Prophet Muḥammad ﷺ foretold regarding the wars and conflicts that would occur near the end of time.
With the ongoing tragedy and oppression in Gaza and Palestine, we often hear references to the Malḥamah al-Kubrā (the great and final battle, sometimes called Armageddon) and the ḥadīth, “‘Umrān Bayt al-Maqdis Kharāb Yathrib”—meaning that when Jerusalem becomes prosperous and highly developed, it will signal the decline or desolation of Madinah.
Looking at this Hadith and others, there seems to be a great deal of confusion and ambiguity surrounding these reports. Some scholars even claim that these prophecies are unfolding before our very eyes in the current era.
My question is:
How companions of prophet (sas) understood these ahadith ?
what are the main lessons and benefits we should derive from these prophecies today?
I would be deeply grateful if you could shed light on these questions and help us understand these predictions in their proper context—so we may take the intended lessons and reminders from them.
Jazāk Allāhu khayran,
Mohammad Sirajuddin

Answer:
Wa ʿalaykum al-salām wa raḥmatullāh,
May Allah bless you for your thoughtful question and your sincere concern to understand the Prophetic traditions in their proper light. Reflecting upon the signs of the end times (ʿAlāmāt al-Sāʿah) is indeed beneficial, provided that reflection is guided by sound knowledge, balance, and humility before revelation.

As for the ḥadīth that says “‘Umrān Bayt al-Maqdis Kharāb Yathrib”, meaning that when Jerusalem becomes prosperous, Madinah will fall into decline, and the reports about al-Malḥamah al-Kubrā (the great and final battle, sometimes called Armageddon), I have written a separate article in Arabic clarifying that this particular ḥadīth is weak. Because it is weak, it should not be used independently to establish its content, though it may be cited as supporting evidence for the general fact that near the end of time there will be widespread trials, conflict, and disorder.

The Companions of the Prophet ﷺ understood such ḥadīth not as predictions to decode or timelines to determine, but as moral and spiritual reminders. They did not busy themselves with calculating when these events would occur, nor did they try to identify who or where the signs would appear. Their focus was always upon what Allah required of them in their own time, to remain steadfast upon truth, to prepare for the Hereafter, and to avoid being distracted by worldly concerns. When they heard the Messenger of Allah ﷺ speak of the turmoil that would precede the Hour, their reaction was not speculation but repentance, fear of Allah, and an increase in righteous action.

The signs of the Hour are mentioned in authentic ḥadīth and alluded to in the Qur’ān, sometimes directly and sometimes symbolically. The purpose of mentioning them is not to enable us to predict the unseen or to identify specific individuals and places, but to warn and remind. These reports are not intended to give us factual precision about future events; rather, they aim to awaken our hearts and strengthen our awareness of Allah.

Their message is moral and spiritual: to instil fear of Allah, to encourage repentance, to inspire hope in His promise, and to strengthen patience during trials. They teach us that hardship is not permanent, that Allah’s help always comes to those who remain steadfast, and that the believers’ duty is to continue striving for truth regardless of the surrounding turmoil.

The language of Prophetic reports about the future is not like ordinary language. It is often symbolic and layered with meaning. Therefore, one should not rush to match every phrase with a modern political event or assume that a prophecy is being fulfilled today. Such claims are speculative and can easily mislead. The correct attitude is one of faith, balance, and discernment, to neither exaggerate interpretations nor neglect their lessons.

Ultimately, the purpose of these reports is not to satisfy curiosity, but to shape the believer’s moral and spiritual readiness. They call us to be alert, sincere, and steadfast, always prepared to meet Allah. The intelligent person is not the one who knows when the Hour will come, but the one who prepares for it with faith and righteous action. As the Prophet ﷺ said: “The intelligent one is he who holds himself accountable and works for what comes after death.” (Tirmidhī)

Therefore, the main lesson we should take from such aḥādīth is to remain conscious of Allah, to strengthen our trust in Him, and to stay steadfast in worship and moral integrity, no matter how dark the circumstances around us become. What benefits us most is not knowledge of when these events will occur, but how we respond, through taqwā, repentance, and sincerity in obedience.

May Allah grant us insight, patience, and steadfastness in these testing times, and make us among those who are alert to His signs and firm upon His path.

Was the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ Able to Read or Write? Understanding the Meaning of ‘Ummi’ in the Qur’an

Madeenah

Question:
Dr Amsha Nahid from Australia asked the following question:
Assalamu ‘alaykum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuh,
Dear Shaykh,
I read an article claiming that the word ‘Ummi’ in the Qur’an means “gentile” (non-Jew) or someone unfamiliar with the Law of Musa (2:78), not “illiterate.” I heard your YouTube Q&A explaining ‘Ummi’ beautifully, but could you please also clarify whether the Prophet ﷺ was able to read or write?
May Allah reward you abundantly in this life and the next.

Answer:
The description of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ as Ummi is one of his unique and divinely appointed attributes. It was not a mere circumstance of birth or upbringing, but a deliberate distinction granted to him by Allah as part of the intellectual and rational miracle that supported his Prophethood. Allah made Ummiyyah an essential aspect of his prophetic identity, completing his attribute of risālah (messengership) and demonstrating that his knowledge, wisdom, and eloquence were entirely divine in origin, bestowed through revelation, not acquired through reading, writing, or study..Click Here To Follow Our WhatsApp Channel

The Prophet’s Ummiya was as essential to his Prophethood as the virginity of Maryam (ʿalayhā al-salām) was to the miraculous birth of ʿĪsā (ʿalayhi al-salām). Just as Maryam’s virginity was the clear proof that ʿĪsā was born without a father, the Prophet’s inability to read or write was the manifest proof that he did not compose or invent the Qur’an. Both miracles serve the same divine purpose: to establish beyond doubt that what occurred was entirely by Allah’s will and power, with no human influence or authorship involved.

Ordinarily, being unlettered is seen as a deficiency. However, in the case of the Prophet ﷺ, it became a mark of perfection and a sign of divine truth. His Ummiyyah was not a lack of learning but a form of miraculous independence from human means of knowledge. His understanding was not shaped by schools, books, or teachers. Rather, his heart was directly illuminated by divine revelation and wisdom. Through this, Allah demonstrated that true knowledge and guidance come from Him alone, not from human instruction. Allah Most High declares in the Qur’an: وَمَا كُنْتَ تَتْلُو مِنْ قَبْلِهِ مِنْ كِتَابٍ وَلَا تَخُطُّهُ بِيَمِينِكَ إِذًا لَارْتَابَ الْمُبْطِلُونَ “You did not recite any book before it, nor did you write it with your right hand. Otherwise, those who deny the truth would have doubted.”
[Al-ʿAnkabūt 29:48]

This verse provides decisive evidence that the Prophet ﷺ neither read nor wrote before the revelation of the Qur’an. The verse also clarifies why this state was divinely decreed: so that no one could doubt the miraculous nature of the Qur’an or claim that he had derived it from previous scriptures or scholarly study. His Ummiyyah thus acted as a divine safeguard and a public proof of his truthfulness.

Had the Prophet ﷺ been known to read and write, the unbelievers could have alleged that he had access to previous texts or the teachings of scholars, and that he had drawn upon them to compose the Qur’an. But the Arabs of his time, his family, his tribe, and even his enemies, knew with certainty that he had never read a book or written a line in his life. When he came forth with the Qur’an, unmatched in its linguistic mastery, depth of knowledge, and perfect consistency, they were left with no explanation except divine revelation. In the authentic hadith, the Prophet ﷺ said: إنا أمة أمية، لا نكتب ولا نحسب، الشهر هكذا وهكذا “We are an unlettered nation; we do not write or calculate. The month is like this and this,” meaning sometimes twenty-nine and sometimes thirty days (al-Bukhārī and Muslim).

The term Ummi in Arabic is well-established as referring to one who neither reads nor writes. Yet, while reading and writing are the means by which human beings normally acquire knowledge, the Prophet ﷺ received perfect, comprehensive, and divinely protected knowledge directly through revelation. His intellect, understanding, and insight were not the products of study or scholarship; rather, they were divinely granted and safeguarded from error.

In other words, his Ummiya was not a shortcoming but a miracle. Through it, Allah showed that the Prophet ﷺ attained perfect understanding and the highest form of knowledge without the conventional means. He became the teacher of all teachers, the source of divine guidance for humanity, though he had never studied under any human instructor.
Ibn Taymiyyah (rahimahu Allah) described this with great clarity, saying: “His lack of writing, despite achieving all the purposes and benefits of writing, was among his greatest virtues and most magnificent miracles.”

This means that although the Prophet ﷺ did not possess the ability to read or write, he attained and conveyed knowledge more perfectly than any scholar, philosopher, or writer could ever hope to do. His message transformed nations and guided humanity for all generations, a clear proof that his wisdom was not humanly acquired but divinely bestowed.

Some have raised the question of whether the Prophet ﷺ might have written his name at the Treaty of Hudaybiyyah. Reports differ: some scholars considered that if he did so, it was a momentary miracle rather than an acquired skill, while others said that he merely pointed to the place where his name was to be written. In either case, this does not alter the fact that the Prophet ﷺ was not a reader or writer by training or habit, as explicitly affirmed in the Qur’an and established by the consensus of scholars.

Adultery in Islam: A Grave Violation of Divine Law, Marital Trust, and Social Order

Fraud Marriage Nexus

In Islam, sexual conduct is not merely a matter of private morality, but it is tied to theological principles, ethical commitments, and social responsibilities. At the centre of this ethical framework stands the institution of marriage, a divine covenant designed to protect individual dignity, familial integrity, and social cohesion. In this context, zina (unlawful sexual intercourse) is not simply an individual moral lapse, but a serious violation of both divine law and communal ethics. Among the most severely condemned transgressions in Islam is adultery (zina al-muhsin), which is a violation of the sacred bond of marriage as well as a challenge to the moral order established by the divine will.

The Qur’anic response to zina is unambiguous and stern. In Surah al-Nur, Allah (SWT) declares: “The woman and the man guilty of illegal sexual intercourse, flog each one of them with a hundred stripes. Let not compassion withhold you in a matter decreed by God, if you believe in God and the Last Day” (24:2).

This verse not only explains the legal punishment for fornication—100 lashes—but also the theological imperative behind it. The phrase “if you believe in God and the Last Day” connects the enforcement of this legal ruling to one’s sincerity of faith, thereby framing adherence to divine commands as a litmus test of genuine belief. The directive not to allow pity to hinder the execution of this penalty further reflects the gravity with which Islamic law approaches violations of sexual ethics.

In addition to detailing the punishment for this sin, the Qur’an seeks to proactively prevent it. Surah al-Isra’ warns: “And do not even approach unlawful sexual intercourse. Indeed, it is ever an immorality and is evil as a way” (17:32). The imperative “do not approach” (lā taqrabū) reflects a preventative moral paradigm, one that obligates believers to avoid circumstances that could facilitate unlawful sexual conduct. This may include solitary interaction with non-mahrams, immodest interaction, or media that stimulates sexual temptation. Through this, Islam constructs an ethical perimeter around sexuality, seeking not merely to curtail the sin but to eliminate the preconditions for it.

The Sunnah of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) reinforces the Qur’anic stance. In a well-known hadith narrated by Abdullah ibn Masʿūd, the Prophet stated: “The blood of a Muslim who testifies that there is no god but God and that I am His Messenger is not lawful to be shed except in three cases: a life for a life, a married person who commits adultery, and one who abandons his religion and separates from the community” (Reported in al-Muwatta’, al-Muntaqa, 2/656).

Here, adultery is listed among the gravest capital offenses, a judgment that has been unanimously upheld by classical jurists across the Sunni schools. It is important to note that the severity of the penalty, death by stoning for the muhsan (married offender), is accompanied by stringent evidentiary conditions. According to Islamic legal theory, conviction requires either the voluntary confession of the offender, repeated four times, or the testimony of four upright male witnesses to the act of penetration itself. These conditions underscore the tension between legal deterrence and procedural protection in Islamic criminal jurisprudence.

Beyond its legal strictures, Islam views adultery as a profound moral and social evil. The act is not simply a private sin; it carries with it disastrous consequences for families, communities, and ultimately the moral order of society. Islam’s emphasis on ḥayāʾ (modesty), ʿiffah (chastity), and ukhuwwah (social brotherhood) positions sexual integrity as foundational to the health of the ummah (Muslim community).

When zina occurs, it shatters the covenant of marriage, referred to in the Qur’an as a mīthāq ghalīẓ (solemn and weighty contract) in Surah al-Nisa’ (4:21), thus violating not only the rights of a spouse but the sanctity of a divine trust. It often brings with it the trauma of betrayal, emotional devastation, illegitimate offsprings, and the erosion of moral values. Adultery thereby represents a collective harm against the integrity of the Muslim family and the ethical coherence of society at large.

Throughout Islamic intellectual history, scholars have shown remarkable consensus in classifying zina as one of the kabā’ir (major sins). Jurists such as Imam Abu Hanifah, Imam Malik, Imam al-Shafiʿi, and Imam Ahmad ibn Hanbal developed comprehensive jurisprudential frameworks that treated adultery as both a crime against God (ḥadd) and a betrayal of communal norms. The great theologian and ethicist Imam al-Ghazali emphasized in Iḥyāʾ ʿUlūm al-Dīn, that the heart darkens with sin, and among the most corrosive sins to the heart and soul is adultery, which destroys the moral sensitivity of the believer.

Similarly, Ibn Taymiyyah and Imam al-Shatibi underscored the systemic consequences of sexual immorality. For them, zina represents a breakdown in the preservation of lineage (ḥifẓ al-nasl), one of the five higher objectives (maqāṣid al-sharīʿah) that Islamic law is intended to protect. Thus, the prohibition is intended to safeguard one of the pillars of social order.

In summary, adultery in Islam is not simply a private moral error. Rather, it is a violation of divine law, a betrayal of marital trust, and a corrosive force within the moral and social order of Islamic civilization. Both the Qur’an and Sunnah address it with exceptional clarity and seriousness, placing it among the most major sins. The legal consequences serve to punish, deter, uphold justice, and to preserve the sanctity of the family as the cornerstone of a healthy society.

In an era increasingly shaped by moral relativism and the trivialization of sexual ethics, the Islamic perspective on adultery offers a coherent and an ethically rigorous alternative. It affirms that human dignity, fidelity, and responsibility are not archaic ideals but enduring values that lie at the heart of divine guidance and human flourishing.

Exploring Al-Jahiz on Eloquence: Cross-Cultural Definitions of Balaghah in Al-Bayan wa Al-Tabyeen

Al-Jahiz

Question:
Assalamo Alaikum,
I pray Almighty to find you in good health.
Of late, I was studying up. It was Al-Bayan wa-Al-Tabyeen of Al-Jahiz (775-868 A.D.). An erudite para stuck me up. I was, indeed, at a loss. I could not skip it over. However, I, with your genial and benign help, hope to explore this uphill task. Al-Jahiz writes:
’’خبَّرنی أبو الزُّبیر کاتب محمَّدِ بن حَسَّان، وحدّثنی محمد بن أبان ولا أدری کاتب مَن کان — قالا:
قیل للفارسیّ: ما البلاغۃ؟ قال: معرفۃ الفَصۡل من الوصل۔
وقیل للیونانیّ:ما البلاغۃ؟ قال: تصحیح الأقسام، واختیار الکَلام۔
وقیل للرومیّ: ما البلاغۃ؟ قال: حسن الاقتضاب عن البداہۃ، والغَزارۃ یَوۡمَ الإطالۃ۔
وقیل للھندیّ: ما البلاغۃ؟ قال: وضُوح الدّلالۃ، وانتہاز الفرصۃ، وحسن الإشارۃ۔
وقال بعضُ أھل الھند: جِمَاع البلاغۃ البَصر بالحُجّۃ، والمعرفۃُ بمواضع الفرصۃ۔
ثم قال: ومن البصر بالحُجۃ، والمعرفِۃ بمواضع الفُرصۃ، أن تدَعَ الإفصاح بہا إلی الکنایۃ عنہا، إذا کان الإفصاحُ أوعَرَ طریقۃً۔ وربما کان الإضرابُ عنہا صفحاً أبلَغَ فی الدَّرَک، وأحقَّ بالظَّفَر۔ (الجاحظ: البیان والتبیین: جلد ۱، صفحہ ۸۸)

Answer:
Wa ʿalaykum as-salām wa raḥmatullāh,
May Allah bless you for your dedication to deep reading and reflection on al-Bayān wa al-Tabyīn, a seminal masterpiece in Arabic rhetoric and adab. The passage you have cited from al-Jāḥiẓ (vol. 1, p. 88 in many editions) is indeed one of the most profound discussions in early Arabic thought on balāghah (eloquence). Below is an annotation and commentary on the quotations you shared, unpacking their rhetorical, linguistic, and philosophical implications.

In this passage, al-Jāḥiẓ records how thinkers from different cultural traditions, Persian, Greek, Roman, and Indian, defined balāghah (eloquence). He uses their sayings to explore how diverse civilizations conceptualized the art of effective speech, persuasion, and stylistic precision. He then concludes with his own nuanced reflection on the nature of eloquence: that true rhetorical mastery sometimes lies in subtlety, indirection, and restraint rather than in explicit statement.

  1. قول الفارسيّ: “معرفۃ الفَصْل من الوصل”
    “Eloquence is the knowledge of what should be separated and what should be joined.”
    The Persian’s definition focuses on syntactic and logical precision. In Arabic rhetoric, faṣl wa waṣl (separation and conjunction) refer to the judicious use of connectives and pauses in discourse. Knowing when to link ideas and when to let them stand apart reflects mastery of logical structure and stylistic clarity. This definition sees eloquence as discernment, the ability to balance unity and distinction within speech, ensuring that form reflects thought accurately.
    This resonates with Aristotelian logic and the grammatical sophistication of Persian chancery prose (inshāʾ), where rhetorical grace arises from structural harmony.
  2. قول اليونانيّ: “تصحيح الأقسام، واختيار الكلام”
    “Eloquence is the correction of divisions and the choice of words.”
    The Greek definition emphasizes method and diction, the proper organization (taṣḥīḥ al-aqṣām) of discourse (dividing arguments coherently) and lexical selection (ikhtiyār al-kalām). This echoes Greek rhetorical theory, particularly Aristotle’s Rhetoric, where effective speech rests on logical division (diairesis) and apt word choice (lexis).
    The concern here is logos, clarity through structured reasoning and stylistic appropriateness.
  3. قول الروميّ: “حسن الاقتضاب عن البداہۃ، والغزارة يوم الإطالة”
    “Eloquence is graceful impromptu brevity, and abundance when the occasion requires length.”
    The Roman’s definition joins spontaneity and abundance, two opposing but complementary rhetorical virtues. Iqtidaab ʿan al-badāhah means to speak concisely and elegantly on the spur of the moment; al-ghazārah yawma al-iṭālah means to display richness and depth when elaboration is required.
    This mirrors Roman oratorical ideals (e.g., Cicero, Quintilian): the eloquent speaker must be both ready in improvisation and ample in discourse. Eloquence is adaptability to context, knowing how much to say and when.
  4. قول الهنديّ: “وضوح الدلالة، وانتهاز الفرصة، وحسن الإشارة”
    “Eloquence is clarity of meaning, seizing the opportunity, and elegance of gesture (or allusion).”
    Here, the Indian thinker defines eloquence as a union of semantic clarity, timeliness, and nonverbal grace.
    Wuḍūḥ al-dalālah, intelligibility; the message must be immediately comprehensible.
    Intihāz al-furṣah, opportuneness; rhetorical timing is crucial.
    Ḥusn al-ishārah, refinement of hint or gesture; eloquence extends beyond words to communicative intuition.
    This reflects a more psychological and pragmatic view of rhetoric, close to Indian aesthetic theories of dhvani (suggestion) and rasa (emotive flavour).
  5. قول بعض أهل الهند: “جِماع البلاغة البصر بالحجة، والمعرفة بمواضع الفرصة”
    “The essence of eloquence is insight into argument and awareness of the proper moment.”
    This further elaboration condenses eloquence into two intellectual faculties:
    al-baṣr bi’l-ḥujjah, perceptiveness in argument, the capacity to discern the strength of proof.
    al-maʿrifah bi-mawāḍiʿ al-furṣah, knowledge of opportune occasions, or rhetorical kairos.
    This definition aligns with philosophical rhetoric: eloquence as wisdom in persuasion, the ability to apply reason and timing effectively, echoing Aristotle’s ethos and kairos.
  6. تعليق الجاحظ:
    “ومن البصر بالحُجَّة، والمعرفة بمواضع الفرصة، أن تدع الإفصاح بها إلى الكناية عنها، إذا كان الإفصاح أوعر طريقةً. وربما كان الإضراب عنها صفحاً أبلغ في الدرك، وأحق بالظفر.”
    “And part of discernment in argument and awareness of the proper occasion is that you should refrain from explicit statement and instead employ allusion when directness would be rougher in manner. Indeed, sometimes turning away from the matter altogether achieves understanding more effectively and ensures greater success.”
    Here al-Jāḥiẓ synthesizes the foreign definitions into an Arabic aesthetic principle:
    Eloquence lies not merely in clarity, but in strategic concealment (kināyah) and restraint (iḍrāb ʿanhā ṣafḥan).
    When explicitness (ifṣāḥ) would offend taste or subtlety, indirection conveys more and persuades better.
    This is the ethos of classical Arabic rhetoric, where taʿrīḍ, ishārah, and kināyah are higher forms of expression than crude directness.
    Thus, eloquence becomes both an intellectual and moral discipline, knowing not only what to say, but what not to say, and when.