ABSTRACT
It is often claimed that there is an extraordinary eloquence and purity of style in the word order or composition of the Qur
) an. Each word and each sen-
tence, indeed the whole Qur ) an, complete
and complement the rest. For example, in order to indicate the severity of God’s punishment, the clause ‘If but a breath from the torment of your Lord touches them’ (21.46) points to the smallest amount of that torment. That is, the clause emphasizes this slightness, so the whole phrase establishes that meaning. The words ‘if but’ (layn) suggest
uncertainty and therefore imply lightness, here of the punishment. The verb massa means ‘to touch slightly’, and also signifies lightness. Nafhatun (a breath) is merely a puff of air, the very epitome of what is slight and inconsequential; grammatically, it comes from the word used to represent ‘singularity’, which again brings out its apparent lack of significance. The tanwin (double n) at the end of nafhatun indicates indefiniteness and suggests that it is so tiny and insignificant that it can hardly be known at all. The partitive min implies a part or a piece, so not even something of an ordinary size. The word adhab (torment or punishment) is less severe compared to nakal (exemplary chastisement) and iqab (heavy penalty), and thus suggests a lesser punishment. Even the use of Rabb (Lord, Provider, Sustainer), which tends to be a warmer word, whereas some of the other names of God emphasize his overwhelming power, authority and sternness, also gives the phrase a gentler tone. The clause suggests that if so slight a breath of torment or punishment has such a result, one should reflect on the severity of divine chastisement by contrast. The parts of this short clause are related to each other and expand the
meaning in a highly impressive manner. Every word and phrase has been selected with extreme care and skill. Here is another example. The sentence
‘They spend out of what we have given them [as livelihood]’ (2.3) is so rich in meaning that it indicates five of the conditions that make charity acceptable to God. In order for his charity to be acceptable to God, someone must give out of his means an amount that means he will not be the necessary recipient of charity himself: ‘out of’ in ‘out of what’ brings this sense to the fore. He must not be charitable from someone else’s possessions, but he must give out of his own property: the phrase ‘what we have given them’ shows this, with the meaning being ‘Give out of what we have given you’. An important aspect of this is that the recipient of charity should not feel that a special favour has been done to him, since what he is given is only what the giver was himself given by God in the first place. ‘We’ in ‘We have given’ indicates this, for it means: ‘It is I who have given you the means out of which you give to the poor. Therefore, by giving to a servant of mine out of my property, he is under no sort of obligation to you.’ But it is not just the giving that is
important, it must be given to someone who will make good use of the gift. The implied reference to livelihood is relevant here, suggesting that the gift must play a part, and perhaps a continuing role, in the ability of the recipient to make a living. The giving is for God’s sake and in God’s name, and it represents essentially a transfer of property from God to someone who will make good use of it. Together with those conditions, the word ‘what’ in ‘out of what’ suggests that whatever God grants humanity is part of our ‘sustenance’ or ‘livelihood’. Therefore, one must give not only material things, but
more widely from what one has, so doing a good deed, offering a piece of advice, general assistance and teaching are all included in the meaning of rizq (sustenance) and sadaqa (charity). This short sentence, then, brings out a
much wider meaning, one that is intended to make the reader and listener think about the wide scope of what is meant by being charitable and receiving God’s benevolence, yet which is at the same time encapsulated within a small number of words. It is often claimed by commentators
that there is a wonderful eloquence in the meanings of the Qur
) an. Consider
the following example: ‘All that is in the heavens and the earth glorifies God; and he is honoured and mighty, the all-wise’ (59.24). Verses such as ‘All that is in the heavens and the earth glorifies God’ or ‘The seven heavens and the earth and those in them glorify him’ (17.44) are very stirring indications of God’s power and authority, and his ability to hold the whole world in his hand. It is not possible to think of finer ways of expressing these points, and the effect that they have had on their hearers is not difficult to imagine. The verses of the Qur
) an represent
its uniqueness and beauty, not to mention its novelty and originality. That is why it has succeeded in convincing so many people of its truth. It imitates nothing and no one, nor can it be imitated. Its style does not pall, even after long periods of study, and the text does not lose its freshness over time. Of course, since the content is very important for its readers, the style can be seen as an aspect of divine grace. God wishes to warn us of the consequences of behaving wrongly and so makes comprehensible what a life of virtue will be, and what our eventual reward for it is. The language is an intimate part of this: it persuades at the same time as it delights.
