Ep 17 — The Mission (Bi'that) in Prophethood

Session 15: The Mission (Bi'that) in Prophethood. Thursday, 11 Mehr 1353 / 16 Ramadan al-Mubarak 1394 Surat al-'Alaq (96:1-8). Read in the name of your Lord who created — created man from a clinging clot. Read, and your Lord is the most generous — who taught by the pen, taught man what he did not know. No indeed! Truly man transgresses when he sees himself self-sufficient. Truly, to your Lord is the return. Here is the subject of our talk today. The moment the burden of messengership (risalat) and prophethood (nubuwwat) is placed upon the prophet's shoulders, after he receives the message of God — what state, what condition, comes into being within him and in the world around him? We are not, of course, greatly concerned with the inner qualities and conditions of the prophet himself. If we raise the matter here, it is to draw a subtle, precise benefit from an ordinary, common word that is present in the Qur'an and in the usage of the religiously learned — a word that, incidentally, illuminates for us one dimension of the question of prophethood. You know that in the Qur'an, whenever there is talk of a prophet's coming, generally the talk is of his bi'that — his being commissioned and sent forth. As the verse says: We raised up a messenger in every nation. We commissioned Moses, Abraham, and the other prophets. Bi'that — what does this bi'that mean? And what is the relationship between bi'that and prophethood? You will notice that the title of today's discussion, written on those papers in the possession of you brothers and sisters, reads: "The Bi'that in Prophethood." Within prophethood there is a bi'that. What does bi'that mean? What is this bi'that? If within prophethood there is a bi'that, to whom does this bi'that belong, what is it, what is its benefit, and so on? Bi'that means a being-roused, a being-stirred-up. What does being-roused mean? It means motion, movement after lethargy, slackness, and stagnation. A dead person who has lain for years in some graveyard, whose bodily parts have become dust, when by the power of the Lord he rises up on the Day of Resurrection — they say he has been raised up. As the verse says: This is the Day of the Raising-up. It is the day of being-roused. Picture a human being who had been asleep in his house, or who in the ordinary course of social life merely moved along — in whom there was no fervor, no striving, no activity, nothing contrary to the customary state of society. He was in reality like a plank of wood, like a lifeless plant, like a wisp of straw cast upon the ordinary flood of society, which carried him this way and that. Then he comes to himself. He emerges from this state of indifference. He senses that this path, this natural current, this ordinary stream, need not necessarily be one hundred percent reassuring and convincing to him; that perhaps another current can be sought out which will bring that human being to the destination of felicity. And when, as a result of these thoughts, the human being awakens, becomes alert, finds striving, finds movement — this human being, they say, has been raised up. In smaller, more particular examples: when you awaken from sleep and rise, you say "he was roused." When you come out of slackness and laziness and listlessness and lethargy and busy yourself with movement, they say "he was roused." This is the meaning of being-roused; ba'th means this. The Day of Resurrection, as you know, is called "Yawm al-Ba'th," the day of being-roused, or in another expression, the Day of Rising. The Rising — that day of standing up, that day of coming out of slackness and listlessness, that day of movement, the day on which human beings, from the moment they emerge from the grave until the moment their final destiny is determined, are continually in striving, in agitation, in movement; this is what they call Yawm al-Ba'th, the Rising. In prophethood there exists exactly such a state. I want your vision regarding prophethood to become a fundamentally new vision. Some imagine prophethood in this way: as though a preacher enters a city to expound for the people of that town a few matters of religion or of something other than religion; or, let us suppose, a teacher of religious rulings rises up among a people and stands to tell them a few subsidiary legal questions; or some orator, some speaker — let us suppose a rabble-rouser — enters a gathering to stir up a bit of clamor and hold a rally. They usually imagine the prophet to be a person of this sort — like a learned, clerical, well-bred man among a group of people. Except that these people, too, sometimes recognize his worth — these are good folk, and they are called believers; and sometimes they do not recognize his worth — these become unbelievers, and they are called polytheists. We have imagined that the prophet is something of this kind. In prophethood there is a transformation and an upheaval — I should say two transformations and upheavals. The first is in the very being of the prophet himself. The bi'that, the rising, the revolution, the transformation, first comes into being within the inner depths and the essence of the prophet himself, within the prophet's own inner self. First he is changed; first he emerges from the state of stagnation and lethargy. A resurrection is set up within his spirit, within his inner self. A rising comes into being within the essence and the soul of the prophet. All the abundant, brimming reserves deposited by God within the prophet are awakened — like a spring from which, at every instant, billions of streams of water are drawn forth and pour out, whereas before this instant all these waters were hidden, concealed within it. In short, the prophet himself becomes a Muslim; he himself comes under the influence of the transformation of divine revelation. Then this very spring, this very transformation, this very fervor, this very revolution, this very rising, pours out from this overflowing, surging fountain that is the spirit and inner self of the prophet into society; it is transmitted into the very text of human society. After a transformation has come into being within him, a transformation comes into being in society. After a mighty rising has been set up within his inner self, a still mightier rising is set up within the text of society. After a revolution has come into being within his heart, by his hand a revolution comes into being in society, and the bi'that in its true sense is realized. So you see that in prophethood, whatever there is, is fervor and transformation and upheaval and rousing and being-roused. What is the prophet's condition before prophethood? Two points concerning the life of every prophet, before prophethood, exist in a manner that seems contradictory. Of course, when I say "contradictory," I do not mean that there is a real contradiction; it may merely appear contradictory. The first is that the prophet, even though he has not yet been commissioned, possesses very strong and deep human reserves — more than the rest of the people. His capacity for understanding, his capacity for movement, his capacity for outburst, is not comparable to that of other people, other human beings. His capacity for the worship and servitude of God, his readiness to be a servant of God, is to a degree that is inconceivable for other human beings. All the reserves that draw a human being out of the abasement of being mere dust and raise him to the summit of Truly we belong to God, and truly to Him we return — that is, of being a true servant of God and being adorned with the character-traits of God — all these reserves are present in the prophet more than in others. Now, why are they more than in others? Did God commit some injustice here, some discrimination here? That is another matter, and in answer to it we can offer a brief, summary reply, in this way: namely, that in the end, in order to bear the burden of the responsibility of prophethood, a heavier, stouter frame and a more powerful reserve was required. The burden of messengership is no penny-trifle of a task. The burden of prophethood, conveying God's message to the people and transforming a society from one of ignorance (jahili) into one of monotheism (tawhidi) — this is a task of enormous magnitude and a very heavy burden, and in the end it is necessary that some group bear this burden. Who will bear it? Ordinary human beings? Or a human being who, by virtue of the conditions and characteristics of his environment, family, climate, and kin, possesses greater capacities and greater possibility? Because God sees the greater possibilities in this being, He helps him, grants him grace, bestows favor upon him, places at his disposal whatever is a means of nurturing, so that these two hundred maunds of burden may rest upon a hundred maunds of the prophet's bone — He makes of him a person ready for this work. In the end, if the Messenger of God had not taken up this heavy burden, this heavy burden would have remained on the ground; it was not the work of you and me to lift it. It was not the work of Gandhi and Lumumba to lift it; it was not the work of Socrates and Plato and Aristotle. A frame more powerful than all these frames is necessary to be able to lift this heavy burden — which is named messengership and prophethood and bi'that — and the detail of this is, of course, very extensive. The prophet is among the people with such reserves as these. This is one point, and this was the summary of the first point: that the reserves which exist in the prophet, in the messenger, are more brimming, richer, deeper, and more usable than the reserves of ordinary people. The second point is this: that the prophet, before the bi'that and before prophethood, is, in the ordinary course of life, a companion and partner of the people; they are moving along in one and the same current. From the beginning he is not preoccupied with thinking, "What shall I do to overturn this society?" It is possible that he is discontented — and indeed he is discontented. An intelligent human being is, of course, discontented with the state of class division of his time, with the state of ignorance of his time, with the poverty of his time, with the oppression of his time, with the foolishness of his time, and — to put it in Islamic terms — with the jahiliyya (state of ignorance) of his time; he is of course discontented. But this discontent is only at the level of discontent; it is not at the level of bringing about a transformation, a revolution, of creating a path counter to the ordinary social path. You see Moses son of 'Imran — peace and blessings upon him — living in Pharaoh's house. As one of the elders of a few years back put it, he was eating Pharaoh's pilaf and roast, even playing the young nobleman; in the marketplace, out of zeal for being of the lineage of the Children of Israel and for those who believed in his idea, he even kills a man. Later, when he is commissioned to prophethood and messengership — while returning from the presence of Shu'ayb and from Midian (after he returns from Shu'ayb and Midian, he is commissioned to messengership there) — concerning that killing of his on that day he says: …and I was among those who go astray. What does "I was astray" mean? It means: I had not yet found this path that runs precisely counter to the ordinary path of the Pharaonic society of that age. Not that killing one of the Pharaonic individuals is a sin — no, not at all; rather, he means to say: on that day when I killed him, I was not a person who, with a definite idea, was pursuing a correct revolutionary orientation. I was a man among other men; I was a walker among other walkers; I was striving, mixed in with the strivings of others; I was moving, alongside the movements of others. Today my path has changed; today I condemn that general movement and that collective course of society. That is, today I have become a person who sets up a rising in society. When? After the bi'that. Or the Noble Prophet himself — God's blessings be upon him and his Family — the verse of the Sura "By the Forenoon" makes the matter quite clear. (It is in these writings; and I will now explain it.) The commentators have said various things here, and there are also narrations beneath the Sura, which I examined: the narrations are interpretation (ta'wil), not exegesis (tafsir). What the narration beneath the noble Sura "By the Forenoon" says — like ninety percent of the narrations beneath the verses of the Qur'an — is not exegesis of the apparent wording. The apparent wording gives its own meaning, which we will now explain and which we wrote there. The narration is ta'wil, the addition of a point to the points of this verse; otherwise the verse itself is clear. The Imam — peace and blessings upon him — does not wish to construe the apparent wording of the verse contrary to its apparent sense; rather, the apparent sense of the verse remains preserved in its place, and they wish to add something. What you and I do not understand in an ordinary glance at the verse, the Imam — peace be upon him — teaches us as well; this is what is called ta'wil. Incidentally, a portion of this very discussion of today's is precisely that our recitation today is "By the Forenoon." By the forenoon. By the brightness of the mid-morning. Al-duha means before noon. Notice, this oath itself is meaningful; this very swearing by that time is meaningful. Perhaps there is an allusion in it, and it is clear that, since the discourse is about the bi'that and messengership of the Prophet, therefore this "forenoon" is an allusion to that light which, through the bi'that of the Prophet of Islam and the prophethood of Islam, encompassed all the horizons of the world. By the forenoon, and by the night when it grows still. And by the night, when its darkness covers all the horizons. Your Lord has not forsaken you, nor does He despise you. It seems that after revelation had begun, when a period had passed, the revelation was cut off. The Prophet — after that being-roused had come into being within him, after that fervor and excitement had arisen in him, after he had grown intimate with the bearer of God's revelation, Gabriel — suddenly sees that the revelation has been cut off; he was intensely grieved. How long did the period of fatra (interval) last? They call it the period of fatra. Some have said forty days, others have said more — up to two or three years. Then the Sura "By the Forenoon" is the first glad-tidings Sura that addresses the Noble Prophet, saying: Your Lord has not forsaken you, nor does He despise you. Your Lord did not abandon you, did not cast you off, and did not grow angry with you. "Nor does He despise you" — He did not grow angry with you. And surely the Hereafter is better for you than the former [life\.] The Hereafter, the future, is better for you than the beginning, than the past; the end of your affair is better than the beginning of your affair. And surely your Lord will give to you, and you will be satisfied. And your Lord will give to you, as much as will make you well-pleased. Of course, there is a narration beneath it that what is meant is intercession (shafa'at) — and that is correct, too. Intercession is one of the things given to the Prophet of God, and it is given to such a degree that he becomes well-pleased. But in this very world, too, so much was given to the Prophet of Islam that he became well-pleased: the guidance of human beings, the establishment of the virtuous city (madina fadila), conquest and victory over bloodthirsty, obstinate enemies, the conquest of lands, the setting of the evolving course of Islamic society onto its track — these were all blessings of God to the Prophet of Islam. In sum: Did He not find you an orphan and give shelter? Did God not find you an orphan and give you refuge? God Most High found you an orphan, without kin, without refuge, and gave you shelter. You had no father — before your birth your father had departed this world; your mother too departed this world a short while later; your grandfather too, after a few brief years, departed this world; you remained, alone, you and you alone, under the guardianship of your uncle Abu Talib. And we sheltered you, the orphan — who were an orphan from the very beginning — at every moment; we kept you in the embrace of our affection and love, O our Prophet. This is giving hope; it means to say: God's shelter is always with you; it was there from childhood, and now too, when a burden of messengership this heavy is upon your shoulder and in your hands. Do not fear, do not be apprehensive, never imagine that God has abandoned you — never; God will not abandon you, when on that day He gave you shelter. And He found you lost (astray), and guided you. And He found you lost and guided you. Here there are several narrations — though some of these narrations are also weak — and several are sayings of the commentators that have become mixed in with the narrations. It says: "And He found you lost, and guided you." What is meant is not intellectual or spiritual lostness; rather, what is meant is that once the Prophet, in his childhood, had become lost in the mountains of Mecca, and then God guided his grandfather, who was able to find him; or in another episode he had become lost, and a certain woman came and found him; or "you were unknown among the people of Mecca, no one recognized you, and God guided the people of Mecca to you." They construed it in these senses. We do not deny these senses — pay close attention, grasp the point of the words. These senses may indeed be the case; if a sound narration in accordance with any one of these senses should come, then with all respect, very well. The existing narrations may, at the root, be weak, or they may be sound. And if sound narrations in this regard should come for any one of these meanings, of course it is acceptable, and one can accept it. But even granting any one of these meanings on the strength of a sound narration, the apparent meaning of the verse is still other than this. Accepting a narration that gives us this meaning does not conflict with accepting the apparent meaning of the verse. The apparent meaning of the verse is something else; the apparent meaning of the verse, plain and explicit, in plain Persian, is saying: "You were astray, you were lost; we guided you." What does "you were astray" mean? Does it mean you were an idolater? Never! Does it mean you were a deviant person? Never! Does it mean you were a sinner? Never! Then what? It means: this straight path that was presented to you through the bi'that and prophethood was not at your disposal. Is it not so? Those bodies of knowledge, those laws, those thoughts, those ideas, that became clear and manifest to his holy heart with the coming of revelation upon the Prophet — did they exist for that great one before prophethood and before the bi'that? Certainly not. "You were lost" means this, and this is the apparent meaning of the verse. And there is no problem at all in our construing the noble verse — whose apparent sense is this — from the standpoint of the ta'wil meaning, as referring to "having been lost among the people of Mecca," "getting lost in the mountains around Mecca," "getting lost while herding certain sheep along a path," for example — just as is found in some of the narrations and reports. Did you grasp it? Well: And He found you lost, and guided you. And He found you in want, with dependents, and made you free of need. He found you needy, with a family to support, and made you free of need. What, then, was the purpose of this verse and of laying out this Sura in this writing? It was this: that the Noble Prophet — just as is the apparent purport of the verse — was lost; he was moving among ordinary people, walking and journeying among society. Although he was distressed by the conditions, although he suffered from the fact that the young nobles of Quraysh would seize the slave-girl of some destitute man and forcibly take possession of her — and he founded the Hilf al-Fudul, the pact of the chivalrous; although he did not for an instant associate any partner with God, nor pay homage and humble himself before these idols; although he did not for an instant make peace with the bullies and the men of brute force, and lived in that society like a chivalrous human being — yet, with all these conditions, what the Prophet did was within the ordinary course of the life of that society; it was within the ordinary course of the life of that society. (To the one at the door — gentlemen, I request that you come a little further this way, so that the ladies who are coming and going may be able to come and go. If there is room in front, please leave the area by the door open enough for one person to pass. If there is room in front, let them come forward; otherwise let them sit outside, but be sure the doorway is kept open enough for one person — both now and always.) The Prophet lives along the ordinary course of the collective life of that society — and suddenly the divine revelation arrives. A deep transformation comes into being within his being and within his inner self. So strange is this transformation, so intense is it, that it even affects the body of the Prophet, even affects the nerves of the Prophet. When the Noble Prophet, on the Mountain of Light (Jabal al-Nur), was struck by the first flame of revelation upon his soul, he caught fire; he saw that the bearer of God's message was saying: Read! The Prophet, since he did not know how to read, said: "But I cannot read" — what shall I read? Or, I do not read, I cannot read — that is, "ma" being either negating "ma" or interrogative "ma" — "and what shall I read?": Read in the name of your Lord who created — created man from a clinging clot. Read, and your Lord is the most generous — who taught by the pen, taught man what he did not know. Fire is set to the Prophet's soul; it brings about a transformation. Suddenly, within this thinking, upright, ready human being, it produces a revolution, a rising. He is no longer the same person at all; he is not the person of a moment before. Muhammad was not the Muhammad of an instant before; he was not the human being of an hour before; he was something else entirely, another element, another essence. First the bi'that came into being within his being, the revolution and transformation within his inner self, and then this very revolution became the source by which he was able to draw a whole world into transformation. If he himself had not changed, he could not have changed the world — and this is a lesson for the followers of the Prophet, that they may know: until they themselves change, they cannot change the world. Let them know that: An essence that has not received from the Bestower of being — how can it become a bestower of being? You, who have not carried away a portion and a share of being for yourself, who have not taken any benefit for yourself from this divine fervor and from this glow of the Lord's grace and the blessing of His light, who have carried away no reserve — what do you wish to give to the people? First become fire yourself, become molten, become aflame, so that you may be able to kindle and set alight the coals, the cold ones, the black ones. The Prophet — first fire was set to his own soul, first his own heart was transformed and overturned, first the fervor of resurrection came into being within his own inner self — by which he was able to draw the world into the fervor of resurrection. He was able to fashion a human being who would give up his life but would not give up his thought. Is it a trifle? Is it a trifle that they would come and throw down dark-skinned Bilal the Abyssinian and beat him — not the kind of beating that is a mere trifle, an iota or two; but those beatings — and how they beat him! Then, right there beneath the lash, right there beneath the torture — not one minute later, not one hour later — he would cry out, "Ahad! Ahad! One! One!" If we wished to render this into Persian expression, to find a sentence equivalent to it, it would mean: "Death to you, death to you, death to you" — this is the meaning of Bilal's "Ahad! Ahad!" The Prophet cannot, just like that, fashion an Abu Dharr; he cannot, for nothing, fashion a Bilal, or fashion a Miqdad, or fashion an 'Abdullah ibn Mas'ud, in the early days of Islam and the bi'that — first he himself was transformed. Now let us see what this melody of the first revelation has done with the Prophet, and what matters it contains. For another of the portions of today's recitation is the Sura "Read." In the name of God, the All-Merciful, the Ever-Merciful. Read in the name of your Lord who created. Read in the name of your Lord, the One who created. Notice, it begins an orderly sequence. For a God-worshipping human being like our Prophet — who even before the bi'that was a God-worshipper, not a polytheist — the first thing that can rouse his attention toward God and draw his heart to God is the simplest subject of all: the subject of creation. "Read in the name of your Lord who created." Creation belongs to Him; all these vast manifestations of creation are from Him. When this matter settles in the mind, it goes up one step, it establishes something higher than creation: Created man from a clinging clot. He created man — and man, moreover, from a clinging clot. How great is the difference between man and the other creatures? A person does not at first notice this. As you walk down the street, a car passes by, a human being passes by; when you are riding in a car, ten people pass by your side, ten trees pass by the side of your car — by a kind of error in the perception that man has. A person pays no attention; when one looks closely at the difference between man and non-man, one does not give it much thought. Well, man too is a being — of course a more precious being, a better, higher being; but those too are beings of a sort. The tyrannical, self-willed people of the world do not, even to the very end, understand the difference between man and non-man — for the reason that thousands of human beings are not worth, in their eyes, as much as thousands of ants. A person destroys thousands of ants with two pennies' worth of kerosene; these people destroy thousands of human beings with a single decree, a single order, with a single bomb. Let us leave that aside. Man, in the first instance, does not understand the importance of man and the astounding difference that exists between man and the other creatures; but when he looks closely, then what? He sees: "Oh, it is astonishing!" The chasm that exists between man and the other creatures is a very deep chasm. A chasm of what? What distinguishing mark, what differentiating feature, does man possess that sets him so far apart from the other creatures? The power of intellect, reason, the cognition of universals, the deriving of conclusions from particulars. A work that neither the tree does, nor the stone does, nor the animal does: innovation, novelty. For if there were no innovation and novelty in man, man would always remain at one level, like the other creatures — as I gave the example of the honeybee yesterday. The power of will and decision, free choice — he does whatever he wishes, contrary to the other creatures, which are compelled to follow their own instinct. Whatever its instinct dictates, it does; there is no question of willing. Man is able to act precisely against his own instinct. Man's instinct is to eat food; man's instinct is to be able to satisfy his sexual appetite — these are instinct, are they not? Yet you see a human being who, throughout his entire lifetime, does not satisfy his sexual instinct even once; this is against instinct, this is ascetic discipline. A human being lives for days on end on a single almond; only man is capable of this — man can act against his own instinct. In short, the power of thought and the power of free choice and the power of will and the power of innovation in man — these are things that have set man apart from the rest of the creatures. Man is altogether something else compared with them. Of course, the materialist scholars too, more or less, in recent times have arrived at this point, saying that man is an astounding species. Although they make no distinction, still — an astounding species. And all these distinctions that exist in man are by virtue of the outpouring of God's spirit in him; the manifestation of God's spirit in man, as in the verse: And I breathed into him of My spirit. In sum, suddenly God draws the Prophet's attention to something higher than dry, bare creation: the creation of man, the creation of reason, the creation of the power of understanding and perception — and that, from what? From a clinging clot. From clotted, congealed blood — from where to where? "What is dust and what is the Lord of lords!" How is it that something which has no soul, no power of movement, no power of understanding, is transformed into an Einstein! Transformed into a great human being, transformed into a Socrates, into a thinker, into a philosopher, into a prophet — how does this happen? Is it anything other than the mighty handiwork of the Lord in the world? Created man from a clinging clot. In the beginning of revelation, they drew our Prophet's attention to this very important point. Notice, it wishes a transformation to come into being within him; it wishes to put a shoe of steel upon his foot, to place a staff of steel in his hand, so that he may go — to such a degree that fatigue no longer has any meaning for him. From the very start they fashion him with these words. Created man from a clinging clot — from clotted, congealed blood. Read… and your Lord is the most generous. Read; God is higher than even this. "And your Lord is the most generous" — He is greater and more noble and more bounteous than even this. "Read, and your Lord is the most generous" — read, and your Lord is the most generous of all. Who taught by the pen. The One who taught by means of the pen. Once again He raises for the Prophet the matter of teaching in man. And this you know: that if there were no pen, if there were no writing, mankind would not have progressed, even so. That which lays the advancement of one generation before the next generation — so that the next generation may use it like a staircase, set its foot upon the experience of the previous generation, and itself construct yet another experience — that is nothing other than the pen. If the scientific discoveries, the scholarly research of the previous generation, were not placed at the disposal of the next generation, the next generation could not add anything to it — know this. If the book of Aristotle had not been at the disposal of Avicenna (Bu 'Ali Sina), Avicenna would not have become Avicenna — who is higher than Aristotle, for example. If the jurisprudential book of Shaykh Tusi, for example, or 'Allama Hilli, had not been at the disposal of Shaykh Ansari and Mirza Shirazi — who are more accomplished and more learned than those forebears, more learned than the scholars of a thousand years before themselves — then had those scholars' books and the product of their research not been at their disposal, certainly these latter ones would not have reached that level; it is quite clear. The first person has five tomans; he gives it to the second person; with his own five tomans, the second makes it ten tomans; he gives it to the third person, who also has five tomans, and it becomes fifteen tomans. The third person is now wealthier than the first person — he has fifteen tomans. But where does this fifteen tomans come from? If the first person had not existed, would he have this fifteen tomans? If the second person too had not existed, would he still have fifteen tomans? Never — he would have had even that five tomans only by force. It is the product of the past experiences and discoveries of man that reaches later generations — and by what means? By means of the pen, by means of writing and inscription. Who taught by the pen, taught man what he did not know. So, higher than the very principle of creation and bringing-into-being, there is something in God. Read, and your Lord is the most generous. Who taught by the pen — taught man what he did not know. Who gave instruction by means of the pen. "Taught man what he did not know" — He taught man the things he did not know. These are blessings of God concerning man. Well, then man ought to give thanks for these blessings. When God has taught man, when God has shown man the way, has given man the pen, has made man rational and given him instruction — then man ought to go toward the loftiest summit; then man ought not to have a single instant of decline. Man ought no longer to have any backsliding and misery — is it so? The next verse answers; it is as though it confronts an imagining of this kind: that if God creates and nurtures humanity in this way, and gives it the pen, and shows it grace, and treats it with such generosity — if it is so, then mankind ought to have no misery and waywardness and corruption and error and the like — has it turned out so? No indeed! No, it is not so as you suppose and as you speak. The state of mankind — how is it? No; rather: No indeed! Truly man transgresses when he sees himself self-sufficient. The transgression of mankind, the rebellions and the arrogance of feeble human beings and of the tyrants (taghuts) against the merciful ones, their drawing up of battle-lines — these made mankind wretched. These transgressions did not let mankind reach guidance. These transgressions and arrogances and rebellions did not let mankind make the fullest use of the Lordly reserves, and be nurtured and reared as God had wished, and become what God had willed for him. The transgressors did not allow it. When they saw themselves free of need, they transgressed, they rebelled, they departed from the path of God. Notice — once again the Prophet is being fashioned. Attention to the grace of God, attention to the nobility of God, attention to the teaching of God, attention to the fact that God is the Creator, attention to the fact that God is the Teacher, attention to the fact that God is the Most Generous, and attention to the fact that humanity has not reached where it ought to reach — it has not reached, as conveyed by "No indeed!" — and attention to the fact that the fault is the transgressors'. And transgression arises from the sense of being free of need. Self-sufficiency, wealth, the amassing of riches, the heaping up of treasures and fortunes, raises up necks; and once the necks are raised, once un-divine powers come into being and take shape, mankind no longer reaches that destination. Notice — these are the inspirations of God at the outset of the rousing; these are that very flame which set the Prophet of God ablaze, set him afire. No indeed! No, it is not as you suppose. You imagine and expect that mankind has reached a state of being set in order? No! Truly man transgresses — man assuredly transgresses and is arrogant. When he sees himself self-sufficient. — that he sees himself as free of need. Truly, to your Lord is the return. Will these transgressors ultimately be successful? No! Again, the return is to your Lord; the end belongs to God; the conclusion of the affair is in favor of God and the divine front. That very path which the Lord of the world has appointed — in the end, mankind will, upon that very path, reach the destination, there is no doubt: Truly, to your Lord is the return. And then there are other matters in this noble Sura. In sum, notice with what truths these matters bring about, in our Prophet, the revolution and transformation — and it is this very transformation that is reflected in the very text of society. Again, in the Sura "By the Star," of which we cited a portion of its verses here, there is an allusion to this very inner transformation of the Prophet — and there are, of course, many other verses, which I did not see the need to cite all of here. But the discussion is a very precise, subtle, and sweet one, and in the discussions I had studied I myself had not come across this point being attended to with precision. So I wished to explain it a little more — for knowing it is useful for acting as well. In the name of God, the All-Merciful, the Ever-Merciful. By the star when it sets. By the star, at the time it sets. Your companion has not gone astray nor erred. Your companion and comrade has not gone astray, nor inclined toward falsehood. This pertains to the matter of the Mi'raj (the Ascension), as it is found in many of the commentaries. Although it alludes to the inner transformation of the Prophet and to the state of receiving revelation, the occasion of the Sura "By the Star" is this: when the Prophet would recount the episodes of the night journey, the journey of the Ascension, these people would not listen. The verse is speaking in that context. Nor does he speak from caprice. He does not speak out of whim. It is naught but a revelation revealed. It is nothing but a revelation that has reached him from the side of the Lord. Taught to him by one mighty in power. He has been taught by that one of surpassing power, that one possessing great strength. (I do not know what I chose in this translation that I made here, for "one mighty in power" (shadid al-quwa). "Shadid al-quwa" means the one who is very powerful. Hand me one of these papers, please. Yes — "that one of great might has taught him.") "One mighty in power" means surpassingly powerful. Possessor of sagacity (dhu mirra). That sagacious, wise one — yes; "mirra" meaning sagacity and wisdom and judgment — which the commentators have said is an allusion to Gabriel: that what he (the Prophet) reports, he reports on the authority of Gabriel, and God taught him these things by means of Gabriel. …so he stood upright. This divine revelation came to him, and he stood erect upon his own feet. And he was on the highest horizon. And he was on the loftier and higher horizon. "Highest" means the most lofty; the horizon, too, is clear. The Prophet stands upon a loftier horizon. Then he drew near and came down. Perhaps it can be construed in this way: "And he was on the highest horizon" means the Prophet stood upon a higher level, by which he was able to become a prophet. As we said, the Prophet, before prophethood, lived with reserves more brimming than the ordinary, among ordinary people. "Then he drew near" — then he approached; "and came down" — then he drew nearer. On the supposition that the one meant is the Prophet: that is, the Prophet drew near to God, and nearer — through acts of worship, through ascetic disciplines, through reflections and ponderings, and through the special graces that God had bestowed upon him, his spirit drew near and nearer to God and became ready to receive revelation. Some have said that what is meant by "he drew near" is that Gabriel drew near to the Prophet, and "came down" — and hung over him; that is, he brought himself to the Prophet in order to convey the revelation to him. In any case it makes no difference; but the first meaning seems to us nearer and more apparent. That second meaning too I wrote, "or he drew near and hung down," in parentheses, so that it may allude to the second meaning. The first meaning I myself prefer more. Until he was at the distance of two bows' lengths, or nearer. The Prophet drew near to God, and so he reached the distance of two bows' lengths, or less. Do not say, "What does 'two bows' lengths' mean, what special significance does it have?" — at the measure of two bows, taking each bow to be one meter, at a distance of two meters from God. Where was God, that the Noble Prophet reached within two meters of Him? No — these are figurative, metaphorical expressions. He drew near to Him, not in respect of place; "two bows' lengths" means he drew very near, very near; the holy spirit of the Prophet drew so near to God, drew so near, that nearer than that is inconceivable for any human being — the very nearest of the near. Then he drew near and came down, until he was at the distance of two bows' lengths or nearer, and He revealed to His servant what He revealed. So God revealed to His servant what He revealed. The heart did not lie about what it saw. What are the observations of the Prophet's heart — it did not lie to the Prophet, it saw correctly, it did not see in error. Will you then dispute with him about what he saw? These, in any case, are verses from the noble Sura "By the Star." At the bottom here, too, we have written a sentence that is the subject of tomorrow's discussion. In sum, then, it is after this inner and innermost rousing that the path of the prophet changes and his striving takes on another color, and with continual effort and struggle he strives. He strives that what may come about? That in society and in the very text of human beings' lives, a rising and a transformation may, from the foundation up, be brought into being. After a transformation has come into being within himself, he endeavors to create a transformation in society — and this is precisely the responsibility of messengership, and the Prophet exists for this work.