The Muslims’ Holy Book is a “mirror-book:” the meanings promoted by the exegetes lie not in the text but, rather, in an interaction between the text and the exegetes’ own experience
Last update: 2024-11-26 17:07:26
The Muslims’ Holy Book is a “mirror-book:” the meanings promoted by the exegetes lie not in the text but, rather, in an interaction between the text and the exegetes’ own experience. Even when the legal rules do find a foundation in its verses, they are not obtained by way of a simple reading. The prohibition against wine demonstrates this quite clearly: the exegetes reorganize the text of the Qur’an after reworking it and then, relying on external data, they propose an interpretation.
If one is to understand the Qur’an’s legal exegesis[1] properly, it is necessary to take the classic concept of sharia, the “Islamic law,” as one’s starting point. Here, I am not referring to the Qur’anic conception of the Law but, rather, to that singular notion formulated by the jurists during the ninth century that was to become hegemonic during the centuries that followed. This approach enables one to see that it would be anachronistic to talk of sharia before the ninth century. Islam has adhered to the idea of a revealed, divine law right from its very dawning, to be sure, but the concept of sharia was a distinctive manifestation of this idea.
It was a Sunni invention in the beginning. Only later was it to spread amongst the other religious families, with the exception of certain currents such as the Druse, the Nusayri (the current Alawites) and post-Fatimid Ismailism. The concept is marked principally by a paradox: although sharia is presented as revealed divine law, nowhere is it established as such. There exists no corpus of which it may be said, “this is the sharia.” Indeed, although it has been revealed, this divine law is not immediately accessible: it has to be reconstructed by interpreting the “indicators” (adilla) that their author (God) has disseminated as much in the Qur’an as in the Sunna, or in the unanimous decisions of the first Muslims (ijmā‘) or, again, in the natural world. Reasoning is therefore indispensable for arriving at it. This important innovation was an attempt to escape the situation created by the closing of the Qur’anic corpus and the weakening of the Abbasid caliphate.
Indeed, that the Qur’an is finite is a fact that comes into conflict with life: by what laws should the new situations not foreseen by the Qur’an’s legislative verses be governed? There are only two possible answers to this question. According to the first, which prevailed until the mid-ninth century, the head of the Community (the caliph, the imam or the commander of the faithful – the name we give him matters little) is the only person qualified to make laws. Thus, many rules that were subsequently incorporated into the body of sharia are attributed to the first caliphs and to Umar I, in particular. These include the definition of a first canonical version of the Qur’an, the establishment of night prayers (tarāwīh) during the nights of Ramadan, the ban both on temporary marriage (mut‘a) and on selling a concubine slave (umm walad) who has borne her master a child, the definition of the punishment for those who consume wine and the introduction of prayer for the dead.[2] This primitive concept has been kept alive in all the Shi‘ite and Kharijite families.[3]
Opposition from the Legal Scholars
The second answer prevailed, in Sunnism, at a time when the caliph-imam was the butt of criticism from the legal scholars who, after two centuries, had acquired considerable weight. This situation deteriorated following an attempt by the Abbasid caliph, al-Ma’mūn, to impose the doctrine of Qur’anic createdness. This provoked opposition from the majority of Sunni scholars. It therefore became imperative to find a solution to the closing of the “revelation” by postulating that the whole Law had been revealed not only in the Qur’an but also in the other source-texts (sunna, ijmā‘), even if not explicitly: it had to be reconstructed intellectually by way of interpretation.
It is for this reason that the jurists considered to be the founders of the most ancient “schools of law” – jurists such as Abū Hanīfa (d. 767) and Mālik (d. 795) – only rarely refer to the Qur’an in their teaching and have not left any compilations of legal exegesis. The same is true of their closest disciples: disciples such as al-Shaybānī (d. 805), Abū Yūsuf (d. 798), Ibn al-Qāsim (d. 806) and Sahnūn (d. 856), for example. How are we to explain the fact that jurists who should have taken account of the Qur’an to solve the problems they had to tackle in their cases did not deem it useful to set out a legal Qur’anic exegesis? The conclusion that may be reached is that the influential jurists in the great schools did not base their legal doctrine on the Qur’an but on other sources, the most important of which (in the case of the earliest jurists) being, without doubt, the legal tradition upon which each one drew. If Ibn Hanbal (d. 855) did not author any compilation of Qur’anic exegesis, the text Ahkām al-Qur’ān (a standard title normally designating a legal exegesis of the Qur’an) has been attributed to Shāfi‘ī (d. 820). There is no doubt about the fact that this jurist referred to the Qur’an, but the text attributed to him is an apocryphal work.
Thus the Qur’an stopped being considered the place of the divine law’s revelation and became simply one of the material sources of legislation; without enjoying any particular privilege, however. Thanks to the Sunna and the Tradition of the Companions and their successors, some verses of the Qur’an were reinterpreted; by extending the field of their application, for example. Take the case of the verses 4:22-24, which define impediments to marriage. Whilst insisting on the prohibition against marriage with acquired relatives, these verses limit the meaning of acquired relationship solely to wives, thereby excluding slave-concubines. According to the letter of the Qur’an, it would therefore be possible to have sexual relations with or marry the mother, daughter or sister of one’s concubine-slave. Nevertheless, this possibility (which probably seemed shocking very early on) could be legitimately re-discussed thanks to the Sunna and the Tradition of the Companions. It must be understood that, if the old conception saw the Qur’an as a corpus containing immediately identifiable laws, the new conception (as soon as it had taken shape) produced a change in the way of relating to the Qur’an: instead of seeking (a necessarily finite number of) laws within it, scholars perused it in search of arguments for the purpose of developing the body of Islamic law systematically. It was the very nature of exegesis that changed. It was no longer only a matter of understanding what the Qur’an said or even of establishing the “circumstances of revelation” (asbāb al-nuzūl) pertaining to some verses. It became, rather, one of trying to define the revealed law in relation to this or that issue, by playing on the Qur’anic formulations and other sources.
Direct Testimony
In this way, when a jurist provided an exegesis of the Qur’an, he did not consider the latter in itself, in abstracto, but read it relating the Qur’anic statements to those of the Sunna or the teaching of the Companions or their followers (tābi‘ūn, Successors) and considering the legal tradition to which he belonged.[4] This is why some of the Qur’an’s verses that are capable of having an unequivocal meaning are not necessarily taken into consideration. The example of the verse 2:282 may be cited in this sense: whilst the verse orders that contracts must be put in writing, sharia rejects the validity of written documents and insists, instead, on direct testimony (which has only a subsidiary role in the Qur’an).[5] One must therefore stop thinking that the jurist searches in the Qur’an for the laws that he issues. There are certainly verses having a directly legislative character but, as has often been observed, there are not very many of them and, more importantly, they cannot really serve as a body of law. Moreover, the jurist-exegete does not extract these legislative verses just as they are, since he, too, interprets them. Let us take the example of the verses 4:11-12, which present a list of legitimate heirs that only partially coincides with that which was later established by sharia: for the Sunnis, the differences mainly concern grandparents and collateral relatives (uncles and cousins).[6] It would therefore be inexact to believe that the Qur’an defined the Islamic rules on inheritance.[7] The example of the impediments to marriage on grounds of breastfeeding may also be cited. Whereas the Qur’an only recognises two – the wet-nurse and her daughter – Islamic law considers there to be as many impediments to marriage on grounds of breastfeeding as there are on grounds of consanguinity.[8] In order to achieve this, the exegetes have based their arguments mainly on the Sunna, which favours this extension in many of its texts. And yet the jurist-exegetes did not consider the relationship between the Sunna and the Qur’an to be a contradictory one: in their opinion, and particularly from Shāfi‘ī (d. 820) onwards, the Sunna explains and clarifies the text of the Qur’an.
The Map of a Longed-for Land
Were it only the Qur’an that was followed, Muslims would be able to pray very freely because the Qur’an gives no precise directions on this subject; just as it is rather reticent regarding purification rites. For all these issues, the Prophet’s recommendations and own practice play a far more decisive part.
This conception of the relationship between the Qur’an and sharia has the consequence that the definition of the Law’s content depends strictly on the jurist-exegete. Although having no claim to infallibility, the latter will inevitably direct his interpretation according to his own sensitivity and ideals. And since there is no single canonical exegesis – on the contrary, diversity rules in this field – the exegetes do not always agree in their reading of the Qur’anic verses. To this is added the fact that no jurist is certain that his definition of sharia coincides exactly with revealed divine law. Inevitably, only one interpretation is correct, but there is no way of knowing which one.[9]
Essentially, Islamic law differs from the western tradition’s laws with regard to its purpose. Whereas the objective of the latter is to guarantee civil peace within the framework of a state and thus guarantee the rights of individuals, subjects or citizens (to life, property etc), the purpose of Islamic law is first and foremost to allow Muslims to achieve eternal salvation. It has often been noted that the very term sharia designated a “right path,” from which a “right conduct” doubtless stems.[10] Thus, if this term has been used to designate Islamic law it is because the latter was metaphorically the way that every Muslim had to follow in order to guarantee his/her own salvation. That therefore means that it is their particular interest in the afterlife that motivates subjects. From this point of view, sharia is like a legislative map of a longed-for land.
In this perspective, the jurist theologian has to identify the rules, both positive (wājib) and negative (nahy), from amongst the mass of statements with which he is presented, because it is these, above all, that determine whether salvation is achieved. Since a prohibition must not be confused with a simple invitation to avoid something, or a recommendation with an order, it is necessary to engage in a complex analysis that takes account of every aspect. Here and there, one can see a reinterpreting, over time, of the exegeses passed down by the Tradition. One example will suffice. Shāfi‘ī claimed to have found in the verse 2:232 an argument in favour of his doctrine on the matrimonial guardianship that agnates exercised over young women to be married. It comes as no surprise that the Hanafi Jassās (d. 980), and the Twelver Shi’i Tūsī (d. 1068), do not follow him, but the same also goes for Fakhr al-Dīn al-Rāzī (d. 1209), a Shafi‘ite exegete, who reproved his master for supporting an exegesis that is contradicted by the syntax of the Arabic and that, for this reason, attacks the majesty of the divine word.[11]
The Tradition’s Filter
The practice of providing an exegesis of the Qur’an probably began soon after its vulgate version (mushaf) was established and, therefore, towards the end of the seventh century. It appears that it consisted mainly of a terminological explanation[12] in the beginning. It quickly took a new form, however, and one hitherto unknown: an explanation of the “circumstances of revelation” (asbāb al-nuzūl) of this or that verse. Nevertheless, when one examines the compilations bearing this title, one quickly realizes that this form of exegesis only concerns a limited number of verses.
At this point it is important to clarify two matters: the first being tied to the Qur’anic text’s history and the second to its related theological doctrine. As regards the first matter and according to Muslim tradition, different variants of the Qur’an existed before the vulgate was established. When that happened, these variants – we are told – were burned. We could therefore ask ourselves whether these variants did not authorize different exegeses. One answer to this question is that they were generally variants linked to issues of vocalization (“readings”) and sometimes (but less frequently) to the absence or addition of words. Furthermore, it seems that the first sura was missing in at least one corpus. All that can influence the Qur’an’s interpretation only marginally, however.
As for the second matter, one often hears it said that the theological dogma of the uncreated Qur’an[13] would make an exegesis of the latter impossible; something that is absolutely incorrect. It is not because they defend the thesis of a created Qur’an that the Mu‘tazilites and those who have adopted their doctrine (including the Zaydites and the Twelvers) have a different exegetical methodology from that of the Sunnis. One has only to consult a Twelver tafsīr such as the one written by Tūsī (d. 460/1068) to realise this. In reality, the controversy over the nature of the Qur’an has nothing to do with the problem of exegesis but concerns the issue of anthropomorphism for those who support the thesis of the created Qur’an, and the issue of God’s eternity for those who support the uncreated Qur’an. In both perspectives, the dogma has no impact on exegetical practice or its methods. Moreover, were things to be as they are said to be, Muslim exegetes would not have been able to support the abrogation theory.
Qur’anic exegesis initially presented itself as a corpus of exegetical traditions only a very small part of which was attributed to the Prophet. Such traditions generally belong to the above-mentioned genre of “circumstances of revelation.”[14] Take, for example, the verse 4:34 (“men are the managers of the affairs of women”) from which the principle of men’s “superiority” over women and the husband’s right to correct his wife, above all, have been derived. According to the Tradition, this verse would have been “revealed” during litigation between a prominent man from Medina and his wife: he reportedly slapped her during a quarrel. Accompanied by her father, the wife went to the Prophet to claim vengeance. The Prophet found her to be in the right but shortly afterwards changed his mind and said that he had received a new verse from the angel Gabriel: one which invalidated his decision and thus called into question the wife’s right to vengeance as the victim of maltreatment. “We opted for one solution,” the Prophet would have declared, “but God has wanted another one.”[15] In other words, up until verse 34 of sura 4, a woman could claim the right to avenge herself if her husband maltreated her; after that verse, she could no longer do so. For this reason, thanks to this verse, the Qur’an states that one cannot appeal to the law of retaliation in marital clashes because the husband has the power to correct his wife should she provide evidence of indocility.[16] From an historical point of view, this exegetical tradition is interesting insofar as it seems to indicate that the husband’s prerogative right to correct was extraneous to the initial preaching. Traditions of this kind are characterised by the fact that they are classified as “prophetic.”
The first great exegetical compilation was the work of al-Tabarī (Baghdad, d. 923). Before him, partial commentaries on the Qur’an such as that attributed to Muqātil b. Sulaymān (Khurasan, d. 767) could be found, as could exegetical traditions united in collections of hadīths (Bukhārī, Muslim etc). In addition to the fact that Tabarī’s work is very voluminous (several thousands of pages) – and may therefore be described as systematic – this commentary is also distinguished by an important feature: it does not limit itself to the prophetic traditions but also sets out those attributed to other authorities (Companions, Followers and later authorities). Indeed, one could go so far as to say that, for the most part, the exegetical corpus primarily regards the traditions established by the Followers and their continuators, whilst the Companions enjoy only secondary importance. Tabarī’s compilation is therefore a sine qua non for those who wish to understand the history of religious and legal thought in the beginnings of Islam.
Tabarī begins by citing the verse or the part of the verse that he wishes to consider. He frequently offers a paraphrase, which he calls tarjama (the acceptation is similar to that of Targum, a paraphrase of the Bible in Aramaic). He then describes the various interpretations, should there be more than one, and cites the exegetical traditions’ corresponding corpus. It sometimes happens that he invokes lexicographical or grammatical arguments but, despite his evident competence (he was a grammarian), the language sciences feature little in Tabarī’s exegetical work. Subsequent exegetes were to make greater use of them. Tabarī proceeds in this manner whether he is dealing with “legislative” verses or “theological” ones. There is no difference between legal exegesis and theological exegesis, from this point of view. Other authors produced important Qur’anic commentaries in the same era as Tabarī. One can cite the Hanafi theologian al-Māturidī (Samarkand, d. 944): he, too, was the author of a voluminous commentary. Most of the commentaries had a legal content because lawyers invoked many of the Qur’an’s verses when arguing their interpretations of the Law. Qur’anic commentaries limited to the legal dimension began to appear from the tenth century onwards, usually entitled ahkām al-Qur’ān or “The Qur’an’s Legal Statutes.” The Hanafi al-Jassās was probably the first to compose a commentary of this kind. He was followed by the Shafi‘ite al-Kiyā al-Harāsī. The Maliki school was not to be outdone: we know of two compilations that were the work of a couple of Andalusians, Ibn al-‘Arabī and al-Qurtubī. The one by al-Qurtubī enjoys a certain success today and all the more so because it is a systematic commentary and not a simply legal one.
From what I have said, it may be argued that Qur’anic exegesis is founded, first and foremost, on the Tradition. The exegete or commentator may formulate his own point of view but this is often only the reflection of an interpretation already existing in the Tradition, or a variant of this interpretation. In other words, whether he be Sunni, Shi‘ite or Sufi, the Qur’anic exegete draws primarily on the Tradition, but also on the language sciences (grammar and lexicography), which come into play as auxiliary disciplines of exegesis.
The Abrogation Theory
Jurists and exegetes alike observed that the Qur’an contained divergent or contradictory verses regarding issues such as inheritance, wine and adultery, for example.[17]
Take the case of wine. Verse 16:67 presents it, if not in a favourable light, at least in a neutral one: “And of the fruits of the palms and the vines, you take therefrom an intoxicant and a provision fair. Surely in that is a sign for a people who understand.”
Verse 2:219 is more ambiguous: “They will question thee concerning wine and gambling [maysir]. Say: ‘In both is heinous sin; and uses for men, but the sin in them is more heinous than the usefulness’.” This verse must be read alongside verse 5:91: “Satan only desires to precipitate enmity and hatred between you in regard to wine and gambling, and to bar you from the remembrance of God, and from prayer. Will you then desist?”
The first positive norm is formulated in verse 4:43, which forbids believers to say their prayers in a drunken state: “O believers, draw not near to prayer when you are drunken until you know what you are saying.”
Verse 5:90 pushes this much further: “O believers, wine and gambling [maysir], idols and divining-arrows are an abomination, some of Satan’s work, so avoid it!”
Qurtubī (d. 1273) begins by explaining the existence of numerous verses that do not have the same content thus: God does not impose a law in one isolated moment but progressively.[18] Still according to Qurtubī, the verses relating to wine would have been revealed in the following chronological order: 2:219: 4:43; 5:91 and 5:90. He further adds, “the majority (al-jumhūr) of the umma is in agreement over the fact that all the drinks that inebriate, other than wine, are forbidden in both large and small quantities. In this case, the punishment (hadd) is to be applied.”[19] From this “majority, one must exclude various jurists from Kūfa (including Sufyān al-Thawrī, Ibn Abū Laylā and Ibn Shubruma) and, above all, Abū Hanīfa, who all deemed those drinks other than wine (such as nabīdh, the alcohol from dates) that inebriate, if drunk in great quantities, to be lawful. If an individual is drunk after consuming one of these beverages but did not deliberately seek this state, he must not be punished.”[20]
According to Ibn ‘Abbās, verse 16:67 dates to the Meccan period, whereas the prohibition is Medinan.[21] The latter would have been promulgated during the third year of the Muslim era, after the Battle of Uhud (around 625 A.D.)[22] According to Abū Maysara, the prohibition was promulgated at the instigation of ‘Umar I, who described the evils (‘uyūb) caused by wine and the influence its consumption can have on the behaviour of an individual.[23] According to another account, wine would have been forbidden following a brawl between Sa‘d b. Abū Waqqās and some men from Medina.[24] A story about Hamza b. ‘Abd al-Muttalib, the Prophet’s paternal uncle, is also given: he allegedly did great damage to ‘Alī’s camels whilst he was drunk.[25] Finally, we can recall (although Qurtubī does not say this), that some of the first converts abstained completely from intoxicating drinks. The best-known case is that of ‘Uthmān b. Maz‘ūn, an acquired relative of ‘Umar I, who is presented as one of the instigators of the prohibitionist policy. The jurists have justified the ban on wine on grounds of the loss of reason that its consumption causes as follows: “Drunkenness is forbidden in all laws, because laws [watch over] the interests (masālih) of creatures (‘ibād) and do not set themselves the goal of corrupting them (mafāsid). The foundation (asl) of the interests [of human beings] is reason (‘aql), just as the origin of their corruption is a loss of the latter. It follows that everything that leads to reason’s obliteration or to its being tainted with confusion (shawwasha) should be prohibited.”[26]
Commenting on the Qur’an: a Social Practice
The tafsīr is a literary genre that is unique to the Islamic world. What makes this practice so singular is the fact that every generation, in every region of the Islamic world, produces its own tafsīrs. Some have never been published. Others have totally disappeared or do not merit attention because they present no particular features. The fact that there exist great Qur’anic commentaries that the whole world recognises for their importance (Tabarī, Rāzī, Zamakhsharī, Qurtubī…) does not preclude the scholars of every era producing their own commentaries. Indeed, the objective of a Qur’anic commentary is not so much to explain the Qur’an as to permit a generation in a specific region to take possession of its interpretation. In this way, the permanent practice of commenting on the Qur’an establishes a permanent bonding within the community of the faithful hic et nunc.
The commentaries from every era are the result of teaching. The exegete does not shut himself up in an office to compose his tafsīr but, rather, comments on and explains parts of the Qur’an’s text to a duly selected public. He can demonstrate his originality, just as he can content himself with repeating what others have already said before him. The quest for originality is rarely his purpose; his task is to establish a relationship between his public and the exegetical tradition that has compiled the canonical interpretations. In most cases, this handing on acts as a binding framework that limits “individual” interpretation: if I am to understand a verse, it is not enough to know Arabic, including what is called “classical” Arabic, because the meaning of this verse has been established by the Tradition. Even the theological or Sufi interpretations – the ones that distance themselves the most from the traditional interpretation – take account of it. Nevertheless, if this reins in “individual” interpretations, it does not hinder innovation. The latter does not derive from a more rigorous examination of the Qur’an’s language and grammar but from a renewal of the vision that Muslims have developed of their place in the world. Let me provide a small example. In verse 3:39, John the Baptist is called hasūr. This term was initially understood to mean “impotent”. Later, since prophetology evolved in favour of the idea that a prophet had to be perfect, the term assumed another meaning and was understood to signify “chaste” or “abstaining.” For this reason, tafsīr is a living practice, despite the weight of the Tradition.
Thus every generation, insofar as it is a part of the umma, must reconnect itself to the text of the Qur’an. This is one of the functions of the mosques: indeed, tafsīr is generally an exercise carried out in the mosque. In this way, the Qur’an is always present in peoples’ minds. Not all Muslims need necessarily have a direct relationship with the Qur’an; it is enough that a small group receives this teaching and passes it on to the people around them.
I would like to end by insisting on one point: except in extremely rare cases, the legal rules are not obtained through a simple reading of the Qur’an, even when they do find a foundation in it. The prohibition against wine demonstrates this quite clearly: the exegetes reorganize the text of the Qur’an after reworking it and then, relying on data external to the text, they propose an interpretation. In short, the ban on wine can be grounded in the Qur’an only for those interpreters who are opposed to this drink. For this reason, I consider it possible to call the Qur’an a “mirror-book.” In other words, the meanings promoted by the exegetes lie not in the text but, rather, in an interaction between the text and the exegetes’ own experience.
The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the position of the Oasis International Foundation
[1] The Arab term tafsīr exclusively denotes exegesis of the Qur’an. When it is exegesis of the Sunna that is referred to, one talks of sharh i.e. “explanation.”
[2] See ‘Umar Ibn Shabba (d. 876), Tārīkh al-Madīna al-munawwara (Dār al-kutub al-‘ilmiyya, Beirut, 1996), vol. I, pp. 374-390, on the legislation produced by ‘Umar I.
[3] The Twelver Shi‘ites abandoned it following the Great Concealment of the imam in 940 or 941, when the absence of the latter became an obstacle to perpetuating a community of believers. The Zaydites turned the imam into one amongst several legal scholars. As for the Ibadis, scattered throughout the Islamic world, they quickly stopped having an imam and, as in the Maghreb, delegated his prerogatives to a council of legal scholars (‘azzāba). Of the Ismailis, only the Nizari branch continues to adhere to the primitive doctrine.
[4] A good description of the process, albeit limited to the Hanafi case, was recently offered by Behnam Sadeghi, The Logic of Law Making in Islam. Women and Prayer in the Legal Tradition (Cambridge University Press, New York, 2013).
[5] See Joseph Schacht, An Introduction to Islamic Law (Claredon Press, Oxford, 1964), on this subject.
[6] The heirs mentioned by the Qur’an are the legitimate offspring of both sexes, the father and mother, the brother and sister and the husband and wife. According to the Malikite doctrine, they are more numerous: to those mentioned in the Qur’an are added the male and female descendants of the son, the male and female descendants of the father and the mother, the sons of the brother german and the consanguineous brother, the brother german of the father and his son, the consanguineous brother and his son and, lastly, the master or mistress (in the case of a freed-person).
[7] See the works of David S. Powers, Studies in Qurʾān and hadīth. The Formation of the Islamic Law of Inheritance (University of California Press, Oakland, 1986), on this subject.
[8] I take the liberty of referring to my article, “Donner le sein c’est comme donner le jour. La doctrine de l’allaitement dans le sunnisme médiéval,” Studia Islamica 92, 2001, pp. 5-52, on this subject.
[9] It is from this that the Ismaili criticism of Sunnism derives. The Ismailis consider their own conception to be superior because the living imam permits this uncertainty to be avoided. See al-Qādī al-Nu‘mān, Disagreements of the Jurists. A manual of Islamic Legal Theory, translated and edited by Devin J. Stewart, (New York University Press, New York-London, 2014), p. 77.
[10] The term shāri‘ designates both the path and the legislator at the same time. The metaphor of the path also appears in the term tarīqa, which designates that which is improperly called a brotherhood.
[11] See my study, “Les juristes et le Coran : un contresens d’al-Šāfiʿī (m. 204/820) au sujet du verset II 232 ? ”, Mélanges de l’Université Saint-Joseph 64, 2012, pp. 171-193.
[12] This is what Claude Gilliot calls “paraphrasing exegesis” in “Les débuts de l’exégèse coranique,” Revue des Mondes Musulmans et de la Méditerranée 58, 1990, no. 4, pp. 82-101.
[13] In reality, it is the uncreatedness of God’s word, in its capacity of divine attribute. The reader is referred to Daniel Gimaret, La doctrine d’al-Ashʿarī (Cerf, Paris, 1990), pp. 309-322 and to Wilferd Madelung, “The origins of the controversy concerning the creation of the Qur’an,” in J.M. Barral (ed.) Orientalia hispanica sive studia F. M. Pareja octogenario dicata (Brill, Leiden, 1974), pp. 504-525, for greater detail on this subject.
[14] See Herbert Berg, The Development of Exegesis in Early Islam. The Authenticity of Muslim Literature from the Formative Period (Curzon Press, Richmond Surrey, 2000), for a close, global examination.
[15] Al-Wāhidī, Asbāb al-nuzūl (Dār al-Hadīṯ, al-Qāhira, 1998), p. 125, no. 307.
[16] For the sake of completeness, it should be recalled that verse 4:35 recommends recourse to arbitration in cases of grave marital clashes.
[17] See John Burton, The Sources of Islamic Law: Islamic Theories of Abrogation (Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh, 1990), on this subject. For more general considerations regarding the Qur’an, see François Déroche, Le Coran (PUF, Paris, 2005). One of the main “analysis grids” for the Qur’an is the distinction between “Meccan Suras” and “Medinan Suras,” a consequence of the canonization of the Prophet’s “Life.”
[18] Qurtubī, Jāmiʿ al-ahkām, III, 36.
[19] Ibid.
[20] Ibid.
[21] Qurtubī, Jāmiʿ al-ahkām, X, 85.
[22] Qurtubī, Jāmiʿ al-ahkām, VI, 184-185.
[23] Ibid., 185.
[24] Ibid.
[25] Ibid., VI, 185-86.
[26] Ibid., 186.