Muhammad (6 page)

Then a soul will know what it has prepared.
¹⁵

Sun, moon, and stars would disappear. Even a pregnant camel, the desert Arab’s most precious possession, had no lasting value. All that really mattered was a person’s conduct:

At that time people will straggle forth
     to be shown what they have done

Whoever does a mote’s weight good will see it

Whoever does a mote’s weight wrong will see it.
¹⁶

Deeds that seemed unimportant at the time would prove to have been momentous; a tiny act of selfishness and unkindness or, conversely, an unconsidered act of generosity would become the measure of a human life: “To free a slave, to feed the destitute on a day of hunger, a kinsman, orphan, or a stranger out of luck, in need.”
¹⁷

Anybody who had performed these “works of justice” (
salihat
) would be rewarded eternally in Paradise (
‘illiyyin
) but those who had concentrated on the selfish acquisition of material possessions would be punished in the
jahim—
a strange word, usually translated “raging fire.” But the Qur’an was not preaching a crudely apocalyptic vision of hell. The passages describing the jahim are sad rather than angry. Later Muslim tradition would elaborate on the themes of Heaven, Hell, and Judgment, but the Qur’an remains reticent, its language characteristically elusive and mysterious. More crucially, it compels the listener to face up to the judgment in the immediate present. The day of reckoning was not merely a distant event; it was also a “moment of truth” here and now. The probing, intimate questioning and the use of the present tense obliged listeners to face up to the implications of their behavior on a daily basis. What would it be like to know that you had wasted your time on earth when it was too late to do anything about it? The Qur’an asks insistently: “Where are you going with your life?”
¹⁸
Human beings were not inherently evil, but they were forgetful, all too eager to push these uncomfortable ideas to the back of their minds. So they needed a constant reminder (
dhikr
).
¹⁹
“Remind them,” God urged Muhammad, “All you can do is be a reminder.”
²⁰

People must, therefore, become self-aware, conscious of what they are doing. They must cultivate the virtue of
taqwa’
, a word that is sometimes translated “fear” but is better rendered “mindfulness.” They must be continually on their guard against selfishness, greed, and arrogance. Instead of frightening themselves with the fear of hell, they should meditate on the signs (
ayat
) of God’s generosity in the natural world and imitate his benevolence:

Look at the camel
     and how it is created

Look at the sky and how it is raised

Look at the mountains and how they are set

Look at the earth and how it is spread.
²⁰

The entire cosmos was a veil, which hid the presence of its Creator. The succession of day and night, sun and moon, the life-giving rains, and the marvellous construction of the human being were all signs of God’s presence. By contemplating these signs in a sustained and disciplined manner, they would become aware of the inexpressible reality behind them and be filled with gratitude.

At present the Quraysh despised the weak; they believed that failure and poverty revealed an inherent lack of nobility, so they felt no obligation towards the poor, the orphan, or the widow. But if they understood their dependence upon Allah at every moment of their lives, they would appreciate their own frailty, and their arrogance would be tempered by awe and wonder. They would lay aside their haughty self-reliance and their proudly cultivated refusal to bow to any creature, human or divine. Muhammad wanted every man, woman, and child in Mecca to develop within themselves the humble thankfulness that should characterize the human condition.

Muhammad was not content simply to work for social reform; he believed that without an interior transformation, a purely political program would be superficial. To effect this, he taught his little group the ritual actions that would enable them to cultivate this new attitude. First, they would meet for prayer
(salat
): their devout prostration would be a daily reminder of their true condition. Salat interrupted their ordinary business and helped them to remember that Allah was their first priority. It was very difficult for men and women schooled in the muruwah ethos to grovel like slaves, and many of the Quraysh were offended by this abject posture. But the physical routine of salat symbolized the surrender (
islam
) of their entire being to Allah. It taught their bodies at a level deeper than the rational to lay aside the self-regarding impulse to prance and preen arrogantly. A
muslim
was a man or a woman who had made this act of submission and was proud to be God’s slave.

Second, members of the Muslim community (
ummah
) were required to give a proportion of their income in alms to the poor. This “pure offering” (
zakat
) took the egotism out of the traditional Bedouin generosity; instead of exhibiting their reckless, excessive liberality, they made a regular, undramatic contribution to the weaker members of the tribe. The new karim was no longer a person who gave away his entire fortune in a single night, but one who tirelessly practiced the “works of justice.” At this stage, the new faith was called
tazakka
(“purification”).
²¹
By looking after the poor and needy, freeing slaves, performing small acts of kindness on a daily, hourly basis, the Muslims learned to cloak themselves in the virtue of compassion and would gradually acquire a responsible, caring spirit, which imitated the generosity of Allah himself. If they persevered, they would purge their hearts of pride and selfishness and achieve a spiritual refinement.

For three years, Muhammad kept a low profile, preaching only to carefully selected people, but somewhat to his dismay, in 615 Allah instructed him to deliver his message to the whole clan of Hashim.
²²
“The task is beyond my strength,” he told ‘Ali, but he went ahead and invited forty elders to a frugal meal. The meagre fare was a message in itself; there was to be no more excessive hospitality.
²³
Luxury was not simply a waste of money but ingratitude, a thankless squandering of Allah’s precious bounty. When the elders arrived, they were nonplussed when ‘Ali served them a simple leg of mutton and a cup of milk. When he told the story later, ‘Ali made it sound like Jesus’ miracle of the loaves and fishes: even though there was scarcely enough for one person, everybody ate his fill. After the meal, Muhammad rose to address the gathering, told them about his revelations, and started to expound the principles of his religion of islam, but Abu Lahab, Abu Talib’s half-brother, rudely interrupted him: “He’s put a spell on you!” he cried, and the meeting broke up in disorder. Muhammad had to invite them back the following day and this time he managed to finish his presentation: “O sons of ‘Abd al-Muttalib, I know of no Arab who has come to his people with a nobler message than mine.” He concluded, “God has ordered me to call you to Him. So which of you will cooperate with me in this venture, as my brother, my executor, and my successor?”

There was an awkward silence, and the elders looked at one another in embarrassment. They could all remember Muhammad as a little boy, living on the charity of his relatives. How dared he claim to be the prophet of Allah? Even Muhammad’s cousin Ja‘far and his adopted son Zayd were reluctant to speak, but finally ‘Ali, a gawky thirteen year old, could bear it no longer: “O prophet of God,” he cried, “I will be your helper in this matter!” Muhammad laid his hand tenderly on the boy’s neck: “This is my brother, my executor, and my successor among you,” he said. “Hearken to him and obey him.” This was too much. The spell was broken and the elders burst out laughing. “He’s ordered you to listen to your son and obey him!” they cried derisively to Abu Talib as they stormed out of the house.
²⁴

Undeterred by this humiliating failure, Muhammad continued to preach more widely in the city, but with very little success. Nobody criticized his social message. They knew that muruwah required them to share their wealth with the poorer members of the tribe; it was one thing to
be
selfish and greedy, but quite another to
defend
these attitudes. Most people objected to the day of reckoning. This, they argued, was simply an old wives’ tale. How could bodies that had rotted away in the earth come to life again? Was Muhammad seriously suggesting that their venerable ancestors would rise from their graves to “stand before the lord of all beings”?
²⁵
The Qur’an replied that nobody could
prove
that there was no life after death, and that if Allah could create a human being out of a tiny drop of semen, he could easily resurrect a dead body.
²⁶
It also pointed out that the people who poured scorn on the idea of a final reckoning were precisely those who had no intention of changing their oppressive, selfish behavior:
²⁷
When faced with the insistent questioning of the Qur’an about the ultimate value of their life, they took refuge in denial and levity. But despite their skepticism, most of the Quraysh were content to leave Muhammad alone. They were businessmen who had little taste for ideological debate, and they knew that a serious internal conflict would be bad for trade. In any case, this little band of slaves, angry young men, and failing merchants was no real threat and their movement would surely peter out.

Muhammad himself was anxious to avoid an open rift. He had no desire to damage Mecca, the “mother of cities.” He knew that some of the Quraysh thought that he wanted to become king—an abhorrent idea to the Arabs, who were deeply suspicious of monarchy. But Muhammad had no political ambitions. As if to reassure his critics, God told him firmly that he must not aspire to public office. He was simply a
nadhir,
a messenger with a warning, and should approach the Quraysh humbly, avoid provocation, and be careful not to attack their gods. This is what the great prophets had done in the past.
²⁸
A prophet had to be altruistic; he must not trumpet his own opinions egotistically or trample on the sensibilities of others, but should always put the welfare of the community first. A prophet was first and foremost a
muslim,
one of “those who have surrendered themselves unto [Allah].”
²⁹
In his desire to avoid a serious dispute, Muhammad did not, at this stage, emphasize the monotheistic content of his message. Like the hanifs, he was convinced that Allah was the only God, but he did not at first condemn the worship of the stone idols round the Kabah or the cult of the three gharaniq. Like most of the great religious sages, he was not much interested in orthodoxy.
³⁰
Metaphysical speculation tended to make people quarrelsome and could be divisive. It was more important to practice the “works of justice” than to insist on a theological position that would offend many of the people he was trying to win over.

But tension was growing. In 616, some of the Quraysh attacked the Muslims while they were performing their ritual prayers in one of the glens outside the city. The incident shocked everybody in Mecca, and both sides desperately tried to reach a modus vivendi. This may have led to the notorious incident of the “satanic verses.”
³¹
The episode is recounted by only two of Muhammad’s early biographers, and some scholars believe it to be apocryphal, though it is hard to see why anybody would make it up. Both historians emphasize the desire for reconciliation in the city at this time. Ibn Sa‘d starts his account by saying that in his desire to avoid an irrevocable breach with the Quraysh, Muhammad “sat down by himself, wishing that nothing be revealed to him that would drive them away.”
³²

Tabari begins,

When the apostle saw that his people had turned their backs on him and he was pained by their estrangement from what he had brought them from God, he longed that there should come to him from God a message that would reconcile his people to him. Because of his love for his people, and his anxiety over them it would delight him that the obstacle that made his task so difficult could be removed; so he meditated on the project and longed for it, and it was dear to him.
³³

One day, Tabari continues, Muhammad was sitting beside the Kabah with some of the elders, reciting a new surah, in which Allah tried to reassure his critics: Muhammad had not intended to cause all this trouble, the divine voice insisted; he was not deluded nor inspired by a jinni; he had experienced a true vision of the divine and was simply telling his people what he had seen and heard.
³⁴
But then, to his surprise, Muhammad found himself chanting some verses about the three “daughters of God”: “Have you, then, ever considered what you are worshipping in Al-Lat and Al-Uzza, as well as Manat, the third, the other?” Immediately the Quraysh sat up and listened intently. They loved the goddesses who mediated with Allah on their behalf. “These are the exalted gharaniq,” Muhammad continued, “whose intercession is approved.”

Tabari claims that these words were put on his lips by the
shaytan
(“tempter”). This is a very alarming notion to Christians, who regard Satan as a figure of monstrous evil. The Qur’an is certainly familiar with the story of the fallen angel who defied God: it calls him Iblis (a contraction of the Greek
diabolos
: “devil”). But the shaytan who inspired this gracious compliment to the goddesses was a far less threatening creature. Shaytans were simply a species of jinn; they were “tempters” who suggested the empty, facile, and self-indulgent yearnings that deflected humans from the right path. Like all jinn, the shaytans were ubiquitous, mischievous, and dangerous, but not on a par with the devil. Muhammad had been longing for peace with the Quraysh; he knew how devoted they were to the goddesses and may have thought that if he could find a way of incorporating the gharaniq into his religion, they might look more kindly on his message. When he recited the rogue verses, it was his own desire talking—not Allah—and the endorsement of the goddesses proved to be a mistake. Like any other Arab, he naturally attributed his error to a shaytan.