"Arab Prophets of the Quran and Bible." Journal of Quranic Studies 8.2 (2006): 24-57. (original) (raw)
Related papers
“Islamic Retellings of Biblical History”
in Y. Tzvi Langermann and Josef Stern (eds.), Adaptations and Innovations: Studies on the Interaction between Jewish and Islamic Thought and Literature from the Early Middle Ages to the Late Twentieth Century, Dedicated to Professor Joel L. Kraemer (Paris, 2007), 299-313.
Some Explorations of the Intertwining of Bible and Qur'an
John C. Reeves, ed., Bible and Qur'an: Essays in Scriptural Intertextuality (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2003), 43-60, 2003
… a palimpsest, layer upon layer, tradition upon tradition, intertwined to the extent that one cannot really grasp one without the other, certainly not the later without the earlier, but often also not the earlier without considering the shapes it took later." 2 Many contemporary biblical scholars are aware that Bible and Qur'ān share and exploit a common layer of discourse consisting of a number of stories and themes featuring and drawing on certain paradigmatic characters such as Noah, Abraham, and Moses. Most however do not pursue the literary ramifications of this nexus, and hence they remain remarkably oblivious to the rich reservoirs of traditional lore tapped and channeled by the Qur'ān and its expounders. 3 The intent of the present essay is to suggest that a careful reading of the Qur'ān in tandem with the interpretive traditions available in ancillary Muslim literature such as ḥadīth, classical commentaries, antiquarian histories, and the collections of so-called "prophetic legends" (qiṣaṣ al-anbiyā') 4 can shed a startling light on the structure and content of certain stories found in Bible and its associated literatures (such as Jewish pseudepigrapha and rabbinic midrash).
The Evolution and Uses of the Stories of the Prophets
“Qiṣaṣ al-anbiyā’ as genre and discourse: from the Qur’ān to Elijah Muhammad”, Michael Pregill with Marianna Klar and Roberto Tottoli, Mizan: Journal for the Study of Muslim Societies and Civilizations, 2,1 (2017), 28 p. (http://www.mizanproject.org)
The study of qiṣaṣ al-anbiyāʾ, the Islamic tales of the prophets, has a distinguished pedigree in the Western academy, but much work remains to be done in the field. Although there have been numerous studies of individual prophetic figures over the last few decades, focused studies of specific works in the literary genre of qiṣaṣ have generally been lacking. Moreover, many studies of prophetic narratives tend to privilege exegetical works over other literary sources, including works in the genre of qiṣaṣ al-anbiyāʾ itself. Despite the apparent contradiction, however, I would argue that the broad dissemination of qiṣaṣ-type material throughout different genres suggests that qiṣaṣ al-anbiyāʾ is better approached as a form of discourse reflecting specific ideological purposes, in particular the appropriation of the biblical tradition and positioning of Muḥammad, the Qurʾān, and Islam as the natural culmination of the Israelite prophetic legacy. As the field develops, clear desiderata remain to be addressed, such as the incorporation of Shi'i, postclassical, and modern reflections on the prophets into the discussion, as well as the full integration of different genres and types of material, for example visual culture, into the field. All of these expressions are tied together by the common aim of shaping the portrayal of these figures in ways that reflect the diverse understandings of Islam among particular authors and communities.
Christology and Prophetology in the early Umayyad Arab Empire
Published in Markus Groß and Karl-Heinz Ohlig, eds., Die Entstehung einer Weltreligion III. Die heilige Stadt Mekka -eine literarische Fiktion, Inârah, Schriften zur frühen Islamgeschichte und zum Koran, 7 (Berlin: Verlag Hans Schiler, 2014), 255-285. The building of the Umayyad Dome of the Rock in 691/692 as a monument for the declaration of an Arab Christology is increasingly recognized in scholarship as a crucial event in the formation of Islam. As a basilica with its 20-meter high cupola on the Temple Mound in Jerusalem, the Dome can be seen as the counter monument to the two most famous Byzantine basilicas, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and the Hagia Sophia, with their 35-m and 50-m high domes. The inscriptions inside and outside the Dome proclaim a Christology that was not only different from those of the late Roman Empire 1 but also incompatible with the Christologies of Syria, Iraq, and Egypt. The inscriptions can be seen as proclamations of a new Arab imperial state theology within a wider Christian ecumenical context which John Wansbrough pertinently called the "sectarian milieu." 2 Why the builder of the Dome, Caliph `Abd al-Malik (685-705), chose to elevate his administration's Christology into the central doctrine of a fledgling state religion is a question
Some prophets in the Qur’an, Id’rīs, Dhul-Kifl (also al-Yasa’a, Il’yāsa and ilyāsīn), still remain to be mysterious figures. Actually, there was another neglected mystery along with these names. Ismāʿīl, the assumed well-known figure of the Qur’an, was always preceding these enigmatic names whenever his name is called together with them, and in the end they were composing a trio as if there were a correlation among these three figures. Searching this correlation has led us into constructing a thesis like that; this Ismāʿīl, when called together with Id’rīs and Dhul-Kifl, was not the son of Abraham from Hagar, but rather this name was referring to the prophet Samuel (as a conjugation of Ismāʿīl) of the Bible. In other words, the trio Ismāʿīl, Id’rīs and Dhul-Kifl was in fact pointing at a well-known trio of the Biblical literature: “the Companies of Prophets”, or the “Sons of Prophets”, or the “School of Prophets”, namely Samuel, Elijah and Elisha. Accordingly, and as explained in the paper, Id’rīs and Dhul-Kifl were not the real personal names of these figures but rather the titles of Elijah and Elisha, representing their special characteristics featured in the Bible. In sum; we are proposing in this paper that the prophets Ismāʿīl, ʾId’rīs and Dhāl-kifl of the Qur’an were but no other than the prophets Samuel, Elijah and Elisha of the Hebrew Bible, “the Companies of Prophets”
Islam and Christian-Muslim Relations, 2019
This book is part of a current trajectory in Qur’anic Studies considering the origins of the Qur’an in relation to its Late Antique and, especially, Syriac context. The book theorizes a specific anti-Sassanian context; its main argument being that the Qur’an evolved, with its earliest chapters directly related to the apocalyptic literature during the Byzantine–Sassanian War, and fully engaged with that struggle, which is an innovative hypothesis. Some of the arguments presented are compelling. Others are necessarily more speculative due to the nature of such study, as the author is aware, but the book opens interpretive possibilities that would be missed by traditional approaches. Chapter 1 analyses Sūrat al-Fīl, which Muslim tradition places in the context of Abraha taking an elephant to Mecca to destroy the Kaʿba. Beck questions this narrative, as it is unreasonable to conceive of an elephant traversing the harsh desert of Arabia, and argues that, unlike Asian elephants, African elephants cannot be easily trained for warfare, so it is more plausible to consider the elephants in the context of Asian elephants used by Persian armies. Beck argues that the Maccabean books are possible subtexts to this qur’anic chapter: 2 Maccabees tells of Seleucid kings commissioning Nicanor, who commanded the elephant army, to destroy the Jews, only for God to save the Jews from destruction, while 3 Maccabees narrates how Ptolemy IV Philopator decides to use elephants to crush the Jews, who are also saved when Eleazar prays and God sends two angels to their aid. With Maccabean narratives as a possible subtext, the hypothesis propounded is that Sūrat al-Fīl might be anti-Sassanian eschatology after the siege of Jerusalem. The blind man being turned away inQ80.1-10 is theorized as a reference to Hormozd IV, who was concerned with social welfare, but blinded in a coup. Chapter 2 discusses the term ‘ṣamad’ in Q 112, engaging with some literature on the topic. Beck argues that ṣamad is used by Syriac Christianity to describe the indivisible Trinity, but that Q 112 adds that God neither begets nor is begotten as anti-Nicene, while using non-Chalcedonian and Manichaean formulae for divine unity. Thus, the Qur’an must be aware of these intra-Christian tensions. Chapter 3 is perhaps the most difficult to negotiate because of the high intra- and inter- textuality within the Qur’an and between it and other literature, especially Manichaean. For example, Q 86.1 discusses a celestial being who paves a redemptive path between heaven and earth similar to a Manichaean redeemer. Beck’s main argument in this chapter is that the Qur’an is not an expression of a prophet with a new revelation, but builds on existing eschatological soteriology in the ancient Near Eastern context to strengthen the legitimacy of its revelation. The main feature of the revelation is the progression from a loose monotheism to a stricter one. Beck introduces two messenger types that can be deduced from the Qur’an: a cosmic messenger (e.g. Q 81.19), in the earliest qur’anic passages, and the later progress to a human messenger. Chapter 4 analyses Sūrat al-Qadr. While some scholars argue the possible reference to Christmas or, generally, the authority of a specific human for salvation, either Jesus or Muḥammad, Beck argues that the qur’anic chapter celebrates a night that begins a new salvific cycle through divine will without human agency, and lacks any ritual. The authority is given to a cosmic messenger, moving along the argument made in the previous chapter. Beck states that the Qur’an emphasizes divine will and that no ritual vigil can invoke the Lord’s descent. One of the arguments discusses the term ‘shahr’, echoing that its possible Syriac origin means ‘vigil’. There is no issue in the possible meaning of ‘vigil’ but the over-emphasis on a Syriac origin is unnecessary. Many of the Arabic cognates with Hebrew/Aramaic interchange sīn and shīn. The Arabic cognate for the Syriac vigil (shahra) is sahra. As the Syriac term corresponds to the moon, so do both Arabic terms sahar and shahar. While the author suggests that the term could have come to mean ‘month’ in Arabic from its use in the Syriac tradition that Christ is the Lord of the months, conceived in April and born in January, this appears to be a stretch. Since shahr is defined as the moon, and sometimes specifically the crescent, and with the moon’s role in determining lunar months, as in some Near Eastern cultures, that might be how the term came to mean ‘month’. Nevertheless, this observation would not necessarily challenge the author’s overarching argument. Chapter 5 discusses Q 94, which is related to the keywords in Q 20.25-41 regarding the story of Moses. The method is very much intra- and inter-textual polysemy, and I am very much convinced that those two passages are inner-qur’anic allusions. Beck states that Syriac Christian homilies emphasized that believers need to imitate Moses, on which Q 94 capitalizes, presenting the addressee as assuming authority for being like Moses. However, while the inner-qur’anic allusion is likely, the reason for it can only be a speculation. Chapter 6 discusses Q 73 and Q 74, containing the imagery of a person wrapped. Beck argues that a servant wrapped for divinization is a recurring image in the Near East in the Syriac Church and Manichaean and Zoroastrian literature. In the Syriac tradition, as Adam lost the robe of glory, also alluded to in the Qur’an (libās al-taqwā), baptism recovers this robe purified. However, Beck argues that the Qur’an emphasizes ethical purity over a priest-administered sacrament conveyed through baptism, although the imagery of a person wrapped as a way to confirm divine authority also exists within Merkabah mysticism, based on the Mantle of Elijah, and even in the Byzantine Church. The over-emphasis on the Syriac connection is therefore unnecessary. There are many traditions in which garments of lights and investiture of cloaks also play a role. My point is that it is very difficult to pinpoint any specific tradition with which these qur’anic chapters specifically engage, since this imagery is very common. The book is enjoyable and provides a wealth of ideas for any serious scholar and student of qur’anic studies. It is also of interest to the general reader attentive to the origins of the Qur’an and its relationship with other Near Eastern literature during Late Antiquity, especially in the context of the Byzantine–Sassanian War. However, I must caution against the excessive assumption of qur’anic engagement with Syriac literature, as the Qur’an also appears to be aware of Greek Christian texts, which should not be surprising, given the Byzantine influence in the Near East during that period. While the book engages with some of the works by Sidney Griffith, Gabriel Reynolds and Emran El-Badawi on the relationship between the Syriac Church and the Qur’an, more engagement might have provided stronger support to some of the arguments. The book must be applauded for engaging with Manichaean and Zoroastrian literature, which is usually neglected in Qur’anic Studies, though it misses some of Patricia Crone’s scholarship on the matter. In short, even if not all the arguments presented in the book are convincing, they are certainly highly insightful and may potentially spark many fruitful debates.
In the ongoing scholarly search for the roots of Islamic theology, students of Kalam are entrenched in two main camps: those who see early Islamic theology as a product of the encounter with Christian theology,1 and those who, without denying certain influences, emphasize the independence of Muslim thought and regard Kalam as a genuine, original reflection of the inner development of Islam. 2 Until now, the arguments of one group of scholars have done little to convince the other. 3