Knowledge of the Arabic language forever remains foundational and an essential latchkey to unlocking the doors of Islam’s sacred law. Without a deep knowledge of Arabic, students will become confused and lose their way; they will miss the mark and have no firm ground upon which to stand, for the simple reason that the Qur’an came down in “a clear Arabic tongue.” God said, “Truly, this Qur’an has been sent down by the Lord of the Worlds: the Trustworthy Spirit revealed it to your heart [Prophet] so that you could bring warning in a clear Arabic tongue” (26:192– 95). He also said, “So, We have revealed an Arabic Qur’an to you” (42:7), and “We have sent it down as an Arabic Qur’an so that you may understand” (12:2); other verses also indicate the Arabic nature of the Qur’an as well.

It is important to note the distinction between the adjective used (i.e., an “Arabic” Qur’an) as opposed to saying an “Arab” Qur’an. Though the Qur’an was revealed in one geographical area, its application is global. God said, “We have sent you [Prophet] only to bring good news and warning to all people” (34:28). It is therefore not a message that is for some people and not for others, nor is it for one era to the exclusion of other epochs. The Prophet Muĥammad ﷺ said, “A prophet used to be sent to his own ethnic people exclusively, but I was sent to every person, no matter what their color.”1

The final scripture, revealed in Arabic, greatly honors the Arabs. Hence, a great responsibility was placed upon the believers among them to make this religion as clear as possible to people, while being a testament against the disbelievers among them, for the message has reached them in the best possible manner….

The Arabic Language and the Early Generations

This indispensability of the Arabic language to engaging the sources of Islam’s sacred law compelled the early generations to immerse themselves completely in the study of Arabic, dedicating vast and sundry resources to that end. In this regard, history records noteworthy yet intriguing incidents. Ibn Ya¢īsh recorded one such event in his Sharĥ li al-Mufaśśal: the Commander of the Faithful, ¢Umar b. al-Khaţţāb, had received a missive from Abū Mūsā al-Ash¢arī, who served as a judge in Kufa. The missive opened with the phrase “From Abū Mūsā al-Ash¢arī to the Commander of the Faithful (min Abū Mūsā al-Ash¢arī ilā Amīr al-Mu’minīn)” with Abū in the nominative case. At that time, Abū Mūsā had in his service a scribe who had a poor grasp of correct usage. This scribe did not place the letter yā’ to indicate the genitive in place of the wāw, which is a sign of the nominative for the Five Nouns (al-asmā’ al-khamsah). When ¢Umar was shown the book, the solecism stood out to him. Perhaps out of anger at what would happen to the language if such misuse continued and spread, in his reply, he ordered Abū Mūsā “to discipline the scribe and then remove him from his post.”

That this man should lose his employment and suffer the chastisement seems a harsh punishment, yet it comes from a leader whose justice permeated the world and whose virtue eclipsed that of other rulers. What angered him so such that he felt compelled to administer corporal punishment? Was the sanctity of the sacred law violated? Or was there an innovation in the religion? These considerations were undoubtedly present in ¢Umar’s mind, for the relationship between the sacred law and language is unquestionable, and innovations inevitably occur if tongues and pens alike err.

We also see that the first caliph, Abū Bakr al-Śiddīq, lamented the solecisms of people and their imprecise diction. It is recorded in the Rabī¢ al-abrār of Abū al-Qāsim al-Zamakhsharī (d. 538 AH/1144 CE) that Abū Bakr al-Śiddīq, God be pleased with him, passed by a man called Abū Lafāqah, who had a garment in his hand. Abū Bakr said to him, “Are you selling this garment?” Abū Lafāqah replied, “No God’s mercy be upon you.” Abū Bakr then responded to him, “When you are upright, your language usage, too, will be upright. Do not say that, but say, ‘No, and God’s mercy be upon you.’” This is because to simply pause and not add “and” could be misconstrued as a prayer against him, as in “May no mercy of God be upon you,” rather than what the reply intended for him. Comportment and decorum in language demand inserting “and” between the negation and the prayer, because the negation is declarative, while the prayer—although meant in the optative mood—is phrased as a predicate, and so adding “and” provides a coordinating conjunction, which acts as a comma and removes the ambiguity.2



